


everything above

by bluedesert



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, dotae platonic soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedesert/pseuds/bluedesert
Summary: Doyoung agrees to help a strange werewolf with his wolfsbane potion, without realizing that the potion is key to keeping the magical world from falling apart.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 46
Kudos: 127





	1. a stranger arrived from the city today

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Ravyn Lenae's Moon Shoes EP!

La Mata is a town without a real location. That is, it doesn’t exist on a map. It is nestled between two mountains, its center a town square with a plaza, a palm tree, and a church. It’s home to a few winding streets filled with stray dogs, children passing around a dusty soccer ball, and one-story homes in front of which grandparents sit on rocking chairs and smoke their pipes. The town boasts of the kind of heat you can’t hide from; it sticks inside bones and between tendons. Everyone moves slowly, dancing around the heaviness of the air.

Nothing particularly exciting has happened in years, from a historian's point of view. The town rarely has any idea of the chaos and bloodshed, laws and politicians, that have filled textbooks and paintings over time. Of course, the town has its own source of amusement. It usually comes in the form of a neighbor having an affair with a local farmer, or perhaps a child who has a propensity for taking sweets without paying. The most recent scandal came a year ago, when two strange city boys stopped into town and never left.

A storm of rumors had surrounded their arrival— they were on the run after committing a crime, or they were secret lovers and had to hide from their family’s disapproval, or were simply tired of city life and chose to escape from the smog and the cold. None of these are quite true, although they are not wholly false either.

The fear that surrounded the introduction of the strangers has quickly dissipated. This is largely thanks to the apothecary the boys set up. It has served the townspeople well, full of various ointments, teas and powders that can ease any ache or ailment, from insomnia to arthritis to heartbreak. The boys have settled comfortably into the fabric of the town and the people have decided that the apothecary, with its wooden shelves always well stocked with jars and vials of every color, has quite simply always been there. 

For this, Doyoung is grateful. When he thinks of the first few days he had spent in La Mata, he remembers only the feeling of existing out of place. Stumbling on a hidden community but not actually finding it. Now he and Taeyong are a part of the town— which comes with a fair amount of intrusion and gossip.

“Is Taeyong still asleep?” Old Lady Kwon asks, a question he would have found nosy, if not rude, were he still in the city.

“I’m afraid he didn’t sleep well last night, so he’s taking the morning to catch up on some rest,” he answers easily. 

“Well, I know he is fond of sweets, so I stopped by with some of my butter cake.” She places a basket with a cloth covered loaf on the counter. 

“Thank you,” Doyoung says, pulling the basket towards him and peering inside. It smells like honey, and looks deliciously sticky. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted. Tell me, how are your knees?”

“Oh, you know, they’re not what they used to be. You better appreciate those joints of yours while they last,” she says.

He hums while reaching over to the shelves against the walls, eyes skimming carefully labeled jars until he finds what he’s looking for. He takes it to the counter and pulls out a cloth bag, filling it with the jar’s flowers and dried herbs. 

“This tea should help with the pain a little,” he says, taking out the wrapped loaf of cake and replacing it with the tea. 

“Thank you, my boy.” If she notices that he mutters something under his breath— something between a poem and a prayer— she doesn’t say anything, just takes back the basket he hands her.

“Don’t hesitate to ask for anything else. You know we’ll have it,” he says, voice lilting but eyes serious. 

“Yes, you seem to have everything we need, don’t you?”

Doyoung just shifts his weight from one foot to the other and offers a smile, his head tilted. Old Lady Kwon laughs out a goodbye and starts to leave when she suddenly stops at the shop entrance, a hand on the doorknob. 

“By the way, someone arrived from the city today. Says he’s looking for you. Are you expecting a visitor?” she asks.

“I suppose I’ll find out,” Doyoung says lightly and waves her out. She smiles and exits, door closing behind her and a bell ringing lightly. 

Doyoung brings down his waving hand, the polite smile falling off his face. He frowns at the door for a moment before walking towards it and flipping over the sign hanging against it, signaling that the shop is now closed. 

A stranger from the city? Maybe it’s time he and Taeyong check on their protective wards. He picks up the cake on the counter and heads towards the back of the store, wondering if Taeyong is awake yet, trying to keep his brain from imagining which face could belong to this city-stranger, and if there is any face he wants to see after their ugly departure from home. 

Behind the shop, deeper into the building, is a cozy looking living room stuffed with colorful trinkets, deep blue and red pillows, glittering throw blankets. He stops by the fireplace to check on the contents of his cauldron. Inside is a potion that gives off cold steam, smelling of the sharp winds of winter. Later, he will turn it into a salve meant to combat the heat. He stirs it once, verifying that the color remains perfectly translucent, then continues down the hallway. 

A look into Taeyong’s bedroom confirms Doyoung’s suspicions— Taeyong is not asleep, but in the garden. He sighs and makes his way out the back, blinking away the sunlight. The garden has little organization to it: vines and flowers grow wherever they choose, fruit trees stand tall and proud, sunflowers sway in the wind. 

Picking a path through the rowdy plants, Doyoung makes his way towards the rosemary. And there is Taeyong, laying on his side and blinking sleepily as he whispers to the herb. 

“Taeyong,” Doyoung starts off, a warning in his voice as he crosses his arms and looks down at his friend. Taeyong shifts into a sitting position and crosses his own arms, mouth set in a pout, eyes stubborn. 

“I know you told me to sleep, but the rosemary—”

“The rosemary is lonely, I know,” Doyoung sighs and falls to his knees, sitting next to Taeyong and staring at the emotional plant. It doesn’t look lonely to him, although it does droop a little under the harsh sun. Taeyong always had a better rapport with the garden than he did, the raw magical energy in his body speaking the same language as the magic in the plants. Doyoung had always been more partial to the practical and precise language of potion making. 

“We’ve talked about this. If you miss sleep at night, you’ll make mistakes during the day and end up over-watering the roses, or forgetting to fertilize the chamomile,” Doyoung says.

“I can’t just leave them alone when they feel like this,” Taeyong insists. 

“Fine,” Doyoung sighs, “how about we re-pot the rosemary and move it to your room? This way it can be with you at night while you sleep.”

Taeyong perks up. “That could work!” 

“Let’s do it this afternoon. Ms. Kwon dropped off some butter cake. We can have a light snack and then I wanted to redo the wards.”

Already on his feet, Taeyong starts walking towards the house, singing “butter cake, butter cake” under his breath. It’s not until they are sitting in the small kitchen, munching on cake and sipping on tea when Taeyong stills, looking at Doyoung in confusion. 

“Why do you want to redo the wards? They should last us another three months, at least.”

Doyoung hesitates, eyes roaming Taeyong’s face. His eyes are wide and curious, and although he looks tired, his cheeks are full, skin glowing in a way it never had when they were in the city. A mention of someone looking for them would only bring him pain and paranoia.

“No reason. Just wanted to be thorough,” Doyoung says. Taeyong shrugs and nods, going back to his cake. Doyoung looks down at his empty mug of tea, the leaves at the bottom moving in a strange fashion, forming a circle then a crescent, then a circle again. He shakes the cup a little, telling the tea leaves not to act up. But they don’t like lies and won’t listen to him. 

☾

Protective wards are tricky. There are plenty of easily accessible supplies used for protection magic— salt, quartz, obsidian— but the key is knowing how much to use. Putting too much protection magic into the air will make it so stuffy that no other magic can take place. Using too many different spells will confuse them, and one spell will mistake another as a threat. 

While Taeyong sprinkles salt along the windows and doorways, Doyoung focuses on their obsidian charms. He dips the obsidian in his favorite magic-enhancement potion, which they always have on standby, and carefully rubs the volcanic glass until the surface heats up. Doyoung encourages it to recall its days of lava and fire, now just a memory embedded between the layers of crystal.

The air is static-y and full. Taeyong wipes sweat off his face. No one with ill-intent can come anywhere near them without experiencing a sudden, painful burning sensation underneath their skin. There are more subtle protective measures, but Doyoung would rather send away any intruders with a good warning. 

It’s only a few minutes after they finish casting their spells when Doyoung hears an incessant knocking on the front door. He waves Taeyong away and heads to the front of the house, into the shop. His heart is quietly frantic in his chest. He trusts in their magic to keep them safe, but the knocking sounds alarmingly loud.

He walks up to the front door and takes a good look at the stranger on the other side, through the glass panel. This must be who Old Lady Kwon was talking about— the dark clothes, the slicked back hair, the suit that must be awfully uncomfortable in the heat. But he isn’t a witch. Doyoung doesn’t feel that kind of magic emanating from him. He must have a tie to the magical world though, because Doyoung feels something in the space between them, a certain kind of magnetism. 

The stranger is still knocking, unreasonably hard, on the door. Doyoung frowns and points to the sign that reads CLOSED. The man takes a moment to read the sign, then resumes his knocking, this time raising his hand so it touches the glass right in front of Doyoung’s face. 

Scoffing, Doyoung considers hexing the stranger right out of town, but his mind still can’t decipher what kind of magic this person holds. He yanks the door open, which startles the stranger, who tilts forward, almost knocking into Doyoung. 

“Who are you?” Doyoung demands, stepping back and behind the counter. He feels better with the wood of the counter separating them.

“I’m Jaehyun. Are you Doyoung? Or Taeyong?” Jaehyun says, sounding far too unbothered considering he had been trying to break down his door only a few seconds prior. 

“How do you know those names?” Doyoung snaps back.

“Oh, so you must be Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, smiling like he’s in on some kind of joke, “he said you’d be the prickly one.”

“Who said that? How did you know we were here?” 

“I don’t know if I can tell you. It’s a bit of a secret, you see,” Jaehyun says, placing both hands on the counter and squinting at Doyoung’s face. 

“Are you with the Coven?” Doyoung asks, fighting to keep the fear out of his voice as his eyes break away from Jaehyun’s inquisitive gaze.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun says, which paired with his offended expression comes as a relief, “I’m here on the behalf of the werewolves.”

He smiles, exposing his unnaturally large canines and paradoxically cute dimples. Doyoung stares at him, open-mouthed. “What on earth do the werewolves want with _us_?”

“Wolfsbane.”

Doyoung remains silent, uncomprehending, with no idea how to engage with a werewolf. Jaehyun is only the second one Doyoung has ever met. The first is Johnny, head of the city’s pack and member of the Council, which is made up of leaders from each magical faction— including the Coven Elders, Doyoung’s own leaders. It seems unreal, that an actual werewolf from the city is standing in their small apothecary, asking for wolfsbane and sweating in his fancy suit.

“You have a perfectly good source of wolfsbane already,” Doyoung finally says, “why come here to get it?” 

“Oh, you misunderstand,” Jaehyun says, like it's Doyoung’s fault that Jaehyun is insufferably pithy, “I don’t want traditional wolfsbane. I want to create a new potion that will replace it.”

He almost laughs, until he realizes that Jaehyun is serious. “What? Why?”

“It’s not working for us.”

This entire conversation must be some sort of hallucination, Doyoung concludes. Maybe there was something in that butter cake. Maybe the rosemary is punishing him for taking Taeyong away. Regardless, there is no way a werewolf is telling him that wolfsbane, the only reason the wolves don’t turn into violent monsters and wreak havoc every full moon, one of the most important potions ever developed, is no longer _working_. 

“Wolfsbane has been used for centuries. A potion doesn’t just one day decide to stop working,” he says.

Jaehyun scowls at him. Doyoung doesn’t feel particularly intimidated by the sharp teeth and flash of silver eyes. He just peers into Jaehyun’s eyes with clinical curiosity, wondering where he’s seen that shade of silver before while waiting for the stranger to explain himself.

“It is doing exactly what it was meant to do. We’ve just finally decided that we have had enough,” Jaehyun clarifies, which doesn’t clarify anything at all.

“Look, there are plenty of talented witches in the city who can help you with whatever you need. Taeyong and I are very busy here, and quite frankly your presence in this town is unwelcome,” Doyoung says. 

He doesn’t like Jaehyun’s attitude, doesn’t like his out of place city clothes, and most certainly doesn’t like whatever problem Jaehyun wants him to fix. He has no idea what the werewolves’ relationship with the Council is like, but last he had checked Johnny is well liked in the witch community, insomuch as witches like werewolves, which is enough to supply them with wolfsbane and not much more than that. If Jaehyun wanted to talk potions, he could go through Johnny and contact the witch’s Coven. 

He shuffles out from behind the counter and opens the door to the shop, staring at Jaehyun expectantly. Jaehyun has lost his scowl and is looking at Doyoung with the same amused expression as before. “I was told you would take some convincing.” 

“I won’t be convinced of anything. Please leave,” he says plainly, already deciding that if Jaehyun makes him ask again he’ll just turn him into a worm and feed him to one of the birds in the garden. Luckily, he leaves, turning around as he steps onto the street. Doyoung closes the door and a panel of glass separates them once again. 

“We need your help,” Jaehyun tries again. 

“Find someone else,” Doyoung says, and snaps his finger. The glass turns into wood, and Jaehyun’s face disappears from sight. 

☾

Sunday mornings are usually spent lazing around on the couch, sipping on tea, and reading books while Taeyong draws on his sketchpad. It’s not until the afternoon that Doyoung will go play with his cauldron, and Taeyong will talk to the plants. They are guaranteed the morning off from the store, because almost everyone in town is at the church. 

This Sunday, however, Doyoung decides to take advantage of the empty streets and slips out while church is in service. He leaves Taeyong to his sketches and heads out, holding a curse in his hand. When he finds the house he is looking for, he leans down and begins digging into the soil of the front garden. Dirt makes its way into his fingernails, the sun shines hot on his neck, but he continues to dig quickly, and then places the curse in the ground.

“What’s that?”

Doyoung whirls around and falls on his butt in the process, blinking at the silhouette of Jaehyun, lit from behind by the morning sky. 

“What are you doing here?” he hisses.

“I asked first,” Jaehyun says, kneeling down to poke at the curse. Doyoung slaps his hand away.

“Don’t touch it. I’m cursing this house. Only a little, though,” Doyoung says, proceeding to cover the curse in dirt. 

“Why are you cursing the house?” Jaehyun asks while he helps Doyoung pat down the soil.

“Old Lady Kwon’s niece just got her heart broken by the man who lives here. I thought he needed to be taught a little lesson about fidelity,” Doyoung says. 

Jaehyun laughs, running his hands along the now flat earth. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You are on my bad side,” Doyoung informs him, “now answer my question.”

Jaehyun stands up, brushing his hands on his slacks, which causes streaks of dirt to stick along the fabric. Doyoung notices that he has given up on his suit jacket, and wears a simple black button up instead. He still looks far too overdressed, and his hair sits perfectly coiffed on his head. 

“You know why I’m here. I need help with the wolfsbane potion,” Jaehyun says. 

Doyoung sighs in frustration and stands up, leading them down the street in case any neighbors skipping church look out their windows. 

“I just don’t understand why you need us specifically to help you with it.”

“You should know better than anyone why I don’t trust the Coven,” Jaehyun says. 

Doyoung looks at him in surprise. He wasn’t aware the werewolves knew the internal workings of the witch community, at least enough to know that Doyoung and the Coven are not on good terms. 

“There are good witches in the Coven who would help if you asked,” Doyoung says, thinking of Donghyuck and Yeri, heart twinging a little. He hasn’t spoken to them since he left. 

“No one with your set of skills,” Jaehyun says. Doyoung doesn’t refute the statement, nor does he take it as flattery. It is simply true. Doyoung had grown up with the means and the motivation to pursue the art of potion making. Curses and spells he is comfortable with, at least more comfortable with than Taeyong, whose powers make it difficult to funnel into something so singular like a spell. But when it comes to potions, Doyoung excels. 

“Aconite. Dittany. Silver and valerian root. Moonstone, which is very difficult to come by,” he recites from memory. He’d only ever brewed wolfsbane once during the course of his studies, but he still remembers how the moonstone had made the potion shimmer like moonlight on a rippling lake. 

“I don’t know much about potions, but I’m sure we can change wolfsbane to get rid of the existing side-effects. You have no idea how painful—”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Doyoung interrupts, feeling his decision waver in a way it shouldn’t, “but you being here puts Taeyong in danger, and that is unacceptable. If the Coven somehow figures out where we are—”

“I promise you can trust me,” Jaehyun says. 

Doyoung pauses, realizing they have walked back to the apothecary. He can hear Taeyong singing inside and his heart contracts, frozen between Taeyong’s voice and Jaehyun’s gaze. In the distance the church bell rings, signaling the start of a new hour and the end of mass. It jolts Doyoung out of his thoughts. 

“Why should a witch trust a werewolf? We don’t— we’re not the same,” Doyoung says. 

“That may be, but I trust you. If a werewolf can trust a witch, why can’t the opposite be true?” Jaehyun asks.

“You don’t trust me! You don’t even know me.” 

“I know of kind witches though, and I can tell you are one.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Doyoung feels himself flounder, wondering where Jaehyun got the confidence that clings to his words. He flees into his store instead of waiting for a reply, closing the door behind him and leaning back, his spine hitting the doorknob and head thumping against the wood. 

“Is someone out there?” Taeyong asks from the shelves, a duster in hand. 

“No one important,” Doyoung says, and heads towards the back of the house to brew himself some chamomile tea. 

☾

The dream starts off in a familiar place. Doyoung stares at the prison cell, shrouded in shadow from thick metal bars. The figure inside is slumped over in a corner and covered in a large trench coat. 

“Taeyong?” He whispers, sinking to his knees, fingers gripping the bars. 

The figure does not stir. Doyoung tries to catch a glimpse of white hair in the darkness, but can’t find it. The cell, hidden below the basement of the Coven’s house, had only existed in Doyoung’s mind as a far-fetched rumor for a long time. Back before the days of the Council, when witches would fight fae by day and vampires by night, when the pelt of a werewolf was still traded for fame and riches, when his people were burned at the stake and drained of their blood. 

But now the Council exists, and magical beings have learned how to live side by side, separate but at peace. No witch dares to enter the abandoned churches of the vampires, or the run-down buildings of the wolves. But no witch hides from the light of the full moon either. People like Johnny and the Coven Elders sort out skirmishes while the rest live without fear. 

For Taeyong, of course, there was never truly peace. The cell that had always been just a whisper shared between magical apprentices became a stark reality when the Coven Elders had him locked up and chained for his odd magic, that raw energy that spoke to the world in ways the witches hadn’t seen for centuries. It became a code to break when Doyoung had worked to create a potion to melt the bars that held much more than just iron in them. And now it was just a fixture in his dreams, his mind reliving the memory again and again to one day process it. 

“Taeyong,” he says again, a bit more forcefully. 

The figure moves now, the heavy trench coat falling off their body to reveal long hair, not white, but a deep red.

Doyoung jerks away from the bars just as the figure slams against them. A werewolf, without a doubt, with flashing silver eyes and long canines dripping in blood. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” the wolf howls, hands twisted unnaturally, reaching out for Doyoung.

“Who are you?” Doyoung says, breathless. 

“I thought I could control it,” the wolf says, and presses his face against the bars, mouth opening wide. 

Doyoung’s brain registers the smell of smoke first. Then flames burst from the wolf’s mouth, the blood dripping down his chin catching fire, and the wolf screams in pain. 

The scene changes and now he is in La Mata, staring at the church that has gone up in flames. The figures in the stained glass windows writhe as they burn, trying to escape the fire but with nowhere to go. He stares, unmoving, as the seats inside turn to smoke, as the wooden cross splinters into nothingness, as the priest stares back among the ruin.

“Your goddesses have left you like the sun leaves the night and the moon leaves the day,” the priest says. 

Flames lick up the priest's robes, and yet Doyoung remains still. The priest’s eyes do not leave his as the hungry fire consumes the gold and silk, the flesh and bone. 

☾

Doyoung doesn’t let Tuesday follow in Monday’s path of melancholy. The night before Taeyong had him take a potion for dreamless sleep and when he wakes up he feels normal. Especially when Taeyong makes him pancakes and pretends to yell at him for not watering the tomato plant. 

Anyway, Tuesday is market day. There is no room for melancholy when there are errands to run. Taeyong bounces on his feet as they walk towards the town square, empty baskets waiting to be filled with food brought in from farmers in the area. It is crowded and loud, despite being early in the day. Vendors yell from their booths, offer samples of coffee and juices, wave dresses dyed bright red and white. The customers are equally loud, bartering down prices and exchanging greetings with familiar faces. Dogs run between legs, tripping up people and scaring the chickens. 

They move slowly, Taeyong stopping to pet and feed each dog that comes up to them. He gets distracted by some pastries made of passion fruit while Doyoung tries to convince the egg vendor to give them two dozen for the price of one. They check off items from their grocery list one by one, sometimes adding items when they see something and think of a new recipe to try. 

By now they are a well oiled machine, each in charge of separate tasks of the job. They split up, Taeyong in charge of looking for mangoes while Doyoung inspects the spinach, and meet up again to debate over the bananas. 

Taeyong almost drops his basket when Irene pulls up next to them with all the class and grace befitting the mayor of the town. She sends them a small smile as she pays for her food, then walks away. They trail after her as she walks through the edges of the crowd and slips into one of the alleyways. 

“How are you, Mayor?” Doyoung starts off politely. 

“I’m well, thank you,” Irene says, looking behind their shoulders towards the market. “I wanted to let you two know that I will be running for re-election this coming month.”

“You’ll win for sure,” Taeyong says.

“That’s very sweet, but Priest Heechul is running against me this time around.”

Doyoung’s mind conjures up the images of his dream in a second. He feels the prickle of heat, the thick smoke in the air. 

“Is that even allowed?” Taeyong asks. 

Irene runs a hand through her hair. “It shouldn’t be, but it has happened before. The church holds a powerful sway in this town.” 

“You think this could put us in danger,” Doyoung draws from the worried look on Irene’s face. 

“The people appreciate your presence here and are willing to turn the other cheek most of the time. But public opinion is a fickle thing, and if Heechul decides he wants you out, he will succeed,” she says.

“The Priest has never been fond of us, but running us out of town seems a little extreme,” Taeyong says, eyes glancing over rooftops to the tall spires of the church.

“Yes, but now that he’s running for mayor, he may choose to play the role of a hero who rids the town of it’s demons,” Irene says. Taeyong recoils from her harsh words. Doyoung narrows his eyes at her, suddenly thinking of the town’s newest inhabitant.

As if she can read his mind, Irene nods at him. “People are still weary of your new friend. I would be careful with who you associate yourselves with.”

Taeyong looks between the two of them, lost. “Who are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Doyoung answers quickly, “thank you for the information, Mayor. Maybe it’s time we paid the church another visit.”

Irene tilts her head, sardonic smile playing at her lips. “Public secrets are best kept to a whisper.”

Doyoung nods as Irene bids them good bye. He braces for Taeyong’s curious gaze, which hits him in full force. 

“New friend?” 

“I’ll tell you when we get home. Let’s go buy some peaches and head back,” he says, turning away quickly and ignoring Taeyong’s pout that follows him. 

Unfortunately, his plan falls through as soon as they reach the peach vendor, because there stands Jaehyun, organizing crates of fruit and sweating in the heat, black shirt stretching across his back as he picks up a crate and places it on the table. He smiles at them, all dimples and too-sharp teeth.

“Care for some peaches?”

Doyoung is suddenly pushed back. He finds Taeyong in front of him, a small trail of smoke coming from his fingers, eyes narrowed in a terrifying glare. 

“Woah,” Jaehyun says, stumbling away from Taeyong and the raw energy that emanates from his form, “I come in peace.”

“We’re in public,” Doyoung reminds Taeyong from behind his shoulders.

“Doyoung, that’s a _werewolf_.” 

“I know.”

Taeyong’s face snaps around and Doyoung is faced with the intensity of his gaze. His white hair shines painfully bright, eyes dark and dangerous. “This is who Irene was talking about.”

“He’s not here to hurt us.”

“I’m not associated with your Coven,” Jaehyun says, stepping around the table to come closer, hands up in surrender. That’s when Doyoung notices his fingers— the tips of which are raw and blistering, as if he had pressed them against the metal rings of an oven. 

“What happened to your hands?” Doyoung asks, aghast. 

Jaehyun turns his hands over to look at them. “What, the burns? It’s no big deal, I was just collecting ingredients for the potion. Figured we’d start with the original and—”

“Okay, what is going on here?” Taeyong interrupts. In the distance, a large crate of apples breaks open, and chaos ensues as vendors and buyers alike trip over the rolling fruit. 

Doyoung’s gaze flits between Jaehyun’s burnt hands and Taeyong’s intense gaze. Beneath Taeyong’s dark eyes is hurt— clear as day for someone who knows him as well as Doyoung does. And then he looks at Jaehyun’s fingers, the broken and swollen skin.

“Let’s go to the apothecary. Taeyong, I promise we will explain everything to you. Jaehyun, let me heal your hands.”

☾

Hidden away from the watchful gaze of the townsfolk, Doyoung methodically covers Jaehyun’s hands in a thick potion filled with aloe vera and a winter breeze. He takes one hand in his own, running his fingers over Jaehyun’s palm, his knuckles, his fingernails. He watches the burn marks fade as Jaehyun calmly explains his presence to a pouting Taeyong, who has left behind his angry gaze and sits small and upset at the kitchen table. 

“Of course we’ll help you,” Taeyong says as soon as Jaehyun finishes relaying his request. “Won’t we, Doie?” 

Jaehyun looks over at Doyoung, delighted. “Yes, won’t we, Doie?”

Doyoung just sighs and stares down at Jaehyun’s fingers, now completely healed. He runs a hand over the knuckles and lets go. He sees it now— underneath the thin, hurting layer of skin on Jaehyun's hands. He is desperate for help, but too proud to beg. 

“What caused these burns?” he asks.

“It was the silver. It’s one of the ingredients of wolfsbane, like you said. It’s quite painful for wolves to handle,” Jaehyun explains.

Doyoung hums in realization and shares a glance with Taeyong. He hadn’t been aware that silver hurt wolves. It certainly hadn’t been mentioned by the older witches of the Coven, the one time he had been taught to brew wolfsbane. If this is the reaction with only skin contact, what would it feel like for Jaehyun to ingest it every month?

“What is it like, taking wolfsbane?” he asks.

Jaehyun stares at his newly healed hands, rubbing his fingers together. He hesitates in admitting what really brought him here— that is, pain. 

“It feels like poisoning yourself, over and over again.”

“We will help,” he says, then pauses. He should have known that this would be his answer the moment Jaehyun first stepped into the shop. “But on one condition. Be honest. How did you find La Mata?”

“I suppose you have a right to know,” Jaehyun concedes, “it was our witch.”

“Witch? What witch?”

“You know him. The charm speaker. The one who fell in love with the wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love magic so much and im really excited to share this! thank you for reading and leave kudos/comments if you can <3 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_), or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


	2. interlude: three together stand alone

The full moon is only a few days away, and Johnny is starting to feel the effects of wolfsbane on his body. It has never affected him as strongly as say, Yuta or Jaehyun, and has gotten better over the years. Maybe he’s built up a tolerance. But still, there is a sluggishness to his movements and a thickness between each thought that has him laying passively in bed while Donghyuck finds all the odd crevices on his body to cover in bruises. 

He blinks at the ceiling lazily, allowing his body to be moved every which way while Donghyuck has his fun. His right arm is moved up and over his head, then diagonally across his chest, then he flexes his muscles just to have Donghyuck lean down and bite him in retaliation. 

“Hey,” he protests, a second too late, staring at the skin of his biceps. 

“Hey yourself,” Donghyuck says, already moving down towards his thighs. His fingers brush the backs of Johnny’s knees, which tickles, then make their way up to the fabric of his boxers. Johnny wraps his legs around Donghyuck’s torso and pushes his heels into his lower back. Donghyuck falls easily and his face lands on Johnny’s stomach. They stay like that for a moment, Donghyuck between his legs and cheeks squished against his belly button. 

Eventually Donghyuck makes his way up the bed, laying his head on the pillow and pressing his cold feet against Johnny’s shins. His arm reaches out to play with the necklace that lays Johnny’s chest, the moonstone glowing faintly in the dark. 

“Where is Mark?” he asks.

“Probably still caught up at the abandoned church. You know how vampires are. Takes them forever to get out of their coffins,” Johnny says. Donghyuck just grumbles in response. 

“Did you know the real reason vampires are immortal is because they’re just too lazy to die? Their bodies put it off for all eternity,” he jokes.

“That’s not even funny,” Donghyuck says and hides a smile in Johnny’s shoulder. 

They hear a loud voice coming from the front door and eagerly spring out of bed. Johnny puts on a soft sweater and pants to combat the chill, now that he’s not in bed with a warm witch on top of him, but Donghyuck just runs out the door to greet Mark in his shorts. 

He expects to see two grinning faces in the living room— maybe a still sleepy Mark and a pestering Donghyuck dragging him through the drab living room into the bedroom. Instead he finds the two boys silent, standing apart and staring at Yuta, who is slumped over the small kitchen table. Mark sits down next to Yuta, hand on his shoulder, speaking in a low voice.

“What’s going on?” Johnny asks and sits down on Yuta’s other side. He looks at Mark, who shrugs and shakes his head. Yuta lifts his head from his arm and blinks at them, silent. Johnny’s heart drops at his fellow pack member’s expression. His eyes have a strange quality to them— glassy, unseeing.

Just then, Jaehyun walks into the room, hair messed up from a nap. He takes one look at Yuta and immediately comes over, sitting down at the table and taking Yuta’s hands in his. When Johnny meets his eyes, his expression is tired despite the extra amount of sleep. 

The group is now almost too big to fit in the living room. The table groans under their combined weight, the poor lighting casting shadows over the wood. It is quiet— at least, as quiet as it can get in the middle of the city. A couple million people living in close quarters has a certain buzz to it, an ever-present background humming.

“Is it the potion?” Johnny finally breaks the silence.

“I can’t take it anymore, Johnny. When I’m on it, I don’t feel human. I don’t feel _anything_ ,” Yuta says. 

“But what alternative do we have?” Johnny asks.

“It’s not fair,” Yuta cries, “our only choices are becoming a monster, or a corpse.”

“Isn’t there something else we could do? Some other potion we could take?” Jaehyun asks.

“Hyuck would know about potions,” Mark says. 

Donghyuck comes out from the shadows, arms crossed. “Wolfsbane is the only potion we’ve developed to help with the full moon. Most witches don’t even know the side effects. And the ones that do don’t care.”

“You care,” Johnny admonishes. 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly. “I don’t know enough about potions to help though. There’s only one person who does, and he doesn’t want to be found.” 

“Who?” Jaehyun asks. 

“An old friend,” Donghyuck says.

Johnny and Mark share a glance. Donghyuck had told them about the disappearance of his friends, about a year ago. It’s a painful subject, and Donghyuck doesn’t particularly like being pitied. Neither Yuta nor Jaehyun know the story. But if what Donghyuck says is true, the missing witches are powerful and could help them with the wolfsbane problem.

“Couldn’t you use some kind of tracking spell?” Jaehyun asks.

“You think I haven’t tried?” Donghyuck says, voice cold, “I did everything I could. I thought they would leave me a trail to follow, a door to open. But they didn’t. It’s impossible.”

“Isn’t there anything you could do?” Yuta asks. 

“Not by myself. Another powerful witch has to do the tracking spell with me. There’s no one I trust with the type of power I need.” 

“The Coven Elders,” Mark realizes. “That’s who you need to do the tracking spell.”

Donghyuck nods. “The last thing I want is for those musty old dicks to figure out where Doyoung and Taeyong are.”

“Hold on,” Johnny raises a hand, “why don’t you just, you know, _charm_ them into doing it with you. Then Mark can erase their memories, and we’re good.”

Donghyuck laughs, high pitched and annoyed. “You want me to charmspeak the elders? Are you crazy? If something goes wrong—”

“I’ll erase their memories of the whole incident,” Mark says. 

Johnny looks at Donghyuck curiously. It’s a unique power, what Donghyuck has. Coercion. Manipulation. Charmspeak. He’s never seen it in action, and he knows that Donghyuck hates using it. It’s an open secret among the pack, an act of trust Johnny is grateful for. But to his knowledge few witches know of Donghyuck’s power, and he could get in trouble for it if they did. Charmspeak was made illegal at the formation of the Council. Witches, werewolves, vampires, and fae alike were all terrified of the idea that a witch could tell them to do anything, and they would have to do it. 

But it looks like Donghyuck is actually considering the idea. Mark has that wide-eyed look he gets when he wants to get his way. Johnny looks over at Yuta and his empty eyes, at Jaehyun and his sallow skin. He knows what Donghyuck will say before he even says it.

“It’s a wild idea. I’ll do it.”

☾

It’s strange, Donghyuck thinks from the shadows, to see Johnny and Mark look so important. He’s used to seeing them dressed down, relaxed and playful at the pack’s house. Mark likes to wear those stupidly cute glasses, despite having vampire vision and no longer needing them. Johnny is always swimming in loose pants and shirts, perfectly warm to combat the city’s chill. 

And yet, here they are, a stark reminder of their position in the magical community. They share power with Donghyuck’s least favorite people— Sooyeon and Hansung, the Coven elders. Mark has ditched his glasses and is dressed in all black, looking particularly dead. Johnny stands tall and proud, eyes calculating. Donghyuck sometimes forgets that a good amount of the time Johnny and Mark spend together, they spend as respective members of the Council, colleagues in one sense, historical enemies in another. They know this place well— an old library, now repurposed on neutral ground to be the meeting place of magical creatures. 

“Where is the fae?” Hansung asks first.

“This doesn’t concern them, so I thought I would save them the travel,” Johnny says.

“They won’t be happy about that,” Hansung warns.

“Did you two decide on this meeting together?” Sooyeon asks with narrowed eyes, watching the space between Johnny and Mark. They are keeping a professional distance, of course, but Donghyuck can feel the thickness in the space between them, the way they are actively holding themselves apart. He wonders if Sooyeon can see that too.

“The reason we brought you here today,” Mark jumps in, “is to discuss the residences—”

That’s his cue. Donghyuck drops his glamour and steps into visibility. Mark and Johnny stare at him with soft, encouraging smiles. With their trust in mind, Donghyuck clears his throat, and speaks.

“Give me the map,” Donghyuck says, feeling magic flow between the sound waves of his voice. The elders’ faces go slack. They look unnatural— eyelids half-closed, mouths slightly open, skin hanging lifelessly against their cheeks. They move in unison towards the bookshelves, steps in sync as two pairs of hands reach out and take an old scroll, then lay it onto the table. They hold it down, one hand on each edge of the map, four in total.

Donghyuck pulls out a golden pendulum, swinging it over the map. It moves from one side to the next, then back again, heavy in his hands. 

“Speak as I speak,” he says. The three of them join in a chorus together, their magic filling the air, the pendulum growing heavier and heavier. 

_In this tween hour_

_We call upon this sacred power_

_Three together stand alone_

_Command the unseen to be shown_

_In innocence we search the skies_

_Enchanted are our newfound eyes_

The gold of the pendulum swinging over the map shifts, blinking, and an all-black eye opens in the center. Its gaze roves over the map, then stops, pointing to an unmarked location.

“They’re not even far. Just down the mountain,” Donghyuck whispers, his hands shaking as his body adjusts to the sudden release of magic. It feels like every single vein in his body has come alive, making itself known underneath his skin. 

“Hyuck—”

Donghyuck looks up from the map to find Mark in front of him, one hand on each elder’s forehead. The elders blink up at him, consciousness draining back into their faces. He starts speaking in a low, hissing voice, urging them to forget what just happened. 

Johnny moves just as quickly. He pulls out a pen and marks an X over where the pendulum is pointing, then rolls up the map and pushes it into Hyuck’s arms. 

“You did a great job,” he says, “but you should get out of here. Get this information to Jaehyun.”

Donghyuck takes a second to look into his eyes, wondering if he will find any fear there. It’s not everyday you watch someone rob a person entirely of their free will. But Johnny’s eyes are a familiar warm brown. He looks behind Johnny’s shoulder and finds Mark’s gaze. It is worried, fearful, but not of him. 

“We just broke Council law,” Mark says tightly, “let's hope it’s worth it.” 

“It has to be,” Johnny says firmly. 

“It will be,” Donghyuck promises, and slips out of the room. He runs down the stairs and into the street, shivering in the wind. He holds the map tightly in his arms, thinking about his old friends. They were so close, and yet never slipped him any hints of their whereabouts. They just left him— the Coven, the city— and never looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is just a short little interlude!!! tbh i wasn't sure i was gonna include it but it's here anyway. i plan on having a few of these sprinkled throughout, with different characters narrating. the next chapter we will go back to doyoung in the town though! 
> 
> btw i got the tracking spell hyuck used from [here](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/647603621401975426/)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_), [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


	3. only one demon in this town

Taeyong hands Doyoung some morning tea, which smells sweet and strong. Doyoung takes a sip, wincing as it burns his tongue. He sends Taeyong a mild glare. Taeyong just stares blandly back at him. They’re sitting at the table, sleep-ruffled and tired, the sun shining painfully through the windows. After Jaehyun had told them the truth about finding La Mata’s whereabouts, they had stayed up late asking him about everything that has happened in the city since they had left, hungry for information about their old home and old friend. 

Doyoung takes another sip of his tea. It has cooled miraculously. He considers calling Taeyong out for the childish behavior, but decides not to. He kind of deserves it, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks around his mug. 

Doyoung shifts in his chair, staring at his bowl of oatmeal. “I was worried it would upset you.” 

“That’s not a real reason.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be more forthcoming from now on,” Doyoung says. He looks up from his bowl and into Taeyong’s eyes. They hold no real anger in them. He has always been too forgiving. Doyoung is sure he would run back to the Coven, pain forgotten, if he were able to. 

“I’m not a child. I know I can be sensitive—”

“Which isn’t a bad thing!” 

“Right. But I want you to trust that I can handle myself,” Taeyong says. 

Doyoung nods solemnly. “I will. I promise.” 

Taeyong slides his hand across the table, squeezing Doyoung’s wrist. “Great. So let me handle the shop today, and you can go work with our new werewolf.” 

“I don’t want to leave the shop entirely up to you,” Dodyoung protests weakly. 

“Jaehyun already seems quite partial towards you—” Doyoung scoffs at that, but it comes out sounding panicked— “so you should spend today working on the potion with him. I can work the store.” 

Taeyong sends him off in the direction of his bedroom to get ready without room for complaint, which is how Doyoung finds himself frowning at his figure in the mirror. The shirt he wears is flowy and white. He has it buttoned all the way up to the top. He unfastens a button. He re-fastens it. He considers changing his pants, but he knows he’ll need to wear something comfortable today. He unfastens the top button again.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaves the mirror and gathers his belongings. The most important is his copy of the Gray Book, which every potion maker has. A few pages are bookmarked with bird feathers. He flips through it and breathes in the familiar smell of old parchment. The book falls open on the most recently marked page, outlining the steps to brew a wolfsbane potion. Most notably, on the upper right hand corner, is the drawing of a werewolf in transition. The drawing’s face is ugly in its madness, his eyes all white, growing fangs breaking the skin of his lips, his chin. His forehead and cheeks hold deep scars, hair wild and unruly. 

Doyoung frowns at the drawing. He had always assumed that this was truly what a werewolf in transition looked like. But now he doubts that thought— it’s more likely that whatever witch made this drawing had never even seen a werewolf during the full moon. Unfortunately, he still needs the information on the page, so he snaps the book shut and slips it into his bag, along with a few empty vials. 

Taeyong is happily chatting with a customer at the front. Doyoung shouts a good-bye and heads out into the heavy morning light. He goes to the main square, greeting the familiar townspeople on his way, and enters one of the smaller buildings on the corner. 

The door opens and out steps Seulgi, Old Lady Kwon's niece. She looks at him, unsmiling.

“Hello.” 

“Hi! I was wondering if you would have time to take me to the Na farm,” Doyoung says, aiming for his most chipper voice. 

“I don’t know,” Seulgi says, staring at her nails.

“Please,” Doyoung whines, abandoning his smile, “I really need the ride.”

“Fine. But only because I have nothing else to do today.” She disappears inside the house for a moment, and comes back carrying two helmets. 

“You’re the best,” Doyoung sings and follows her to the motorbike parked on the street. He dutifully puts on his helmet and clambers onto the bike after her. The truth is that he is terrified of that bike— Seulgi is a reckless driver, if only because she is so good at it. But she is always willing to help him out when he needs it, so he appreciates the bike as much as he is afraid of it. 

The two of them speed out of town. Doyoung blinks against the wind that whips around their faces and swallows down an embarrassing screech. They make their way into the forest and the ever-bending roads of the mountain, kicking up dust in their wake. Doyoung focuses on not falling off, trying to identify the trees that fly by. Seulgi gets to the Na farm in record time, and he stumbles off the bike, his legs feeling like jelly. 

“Ask one of the Na’s to take you back into town,” she says, and leaves him. 

Doyoung sighs and walks up the path leading to the house. A dog runs up to him immediately, sniffing around his shoes and barking loudly. 

“Hi pup,” Doyoung says, patting the dog's head awkwardly.

He finds Jaehyun by the front porch with the younger Na kids, kicking around a ball enthusiastically with Jaemin. Jaehyun scores a goal against Jaemin and runs around the grass doing a ridiculous victory dance, Jaemin meanwhile falling to the ground with laughter. Doyoung rolls his eyes as he makes it up to the house. 

Jaehyun stops the moment he spots Doyoung, almost tripping over his own feet. Doyoung offers a wave, then almost falls down himself as Jaemin barrels into him. 

“Doyoung! You came? Why are you here? Do you know Jaehyun? He’s my newest friend,” Jaemin yells into Doyoung’s ear. 

Doyoung pats Jaemin on the head as he had the dog’s. “Hey kid. I’m actually here to steal Jaehyun away for the day.” 

“Why?” Jaemin whines, then his eyes light up, “can I come with?” 

“Absolutely not,” he replies sternly. “But I brought you a slice of butter cake. Old Lady Kwon made it.” 

Jaemin screeches and takes the basket Doyoung hands him, then runs back into the house shouting for the rest of his family. Doyoung finds himself sharing a smile with Jaehyun as Jaemin finds his uncle and shows him the cake. 

“How did you know I was here?” Jaehyun asks around his grin. 

“You mentioned a family of farmers had offered you lodging in exchange for your help at the market. The Na’s are well known for their lack of self preservation.”

“I would just call that hospitality.” 

“You would invite a strange werewolf into your house?”

“I’d even invite a strange witch.” 

“Then clearly you have no sense of self preservation either.”

Jaehyun huffs out a laugh. “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Well, I have to gather up the ingredients for the wolfsbane potion. I figured you’d want to help.” 

“I do,” Jaehyun says, smile falling and eyes turning serious. “I have some silver in my room, but haven’t gotten my hands on anything else.” 

“Show me the silver but don’t touch it,” Doyoung says, stomach upturning at the memory of Jaehyun’s blistered fingers. 

Jaehyun leads them into the house. It takes them a few moments to politely decline an offer for lunch from Jaemin’s family, and even longer to convince Jaemin to play with his siblings and leave them to their work. Eventually they make it into the small guest bedroom, which holds only enough space for a bed and a dresser. He spies a trench coat hanging from the edge of the bed, a small suitcase open and still packed. On top of the dresser is a mirror, a hair brush, and a small brown book.

Doyoung traces the edges of the dresser with his fingers, stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, catching Jaehyun’s eye. He runs a hand over the top of the book but does not open it.

“What is this?” he asks.

“You can read it. It’s a book of sheet music. I use it for my compositions,” Jaehyun says, reaching around Doyoung to open a drawer of the dresser. Doyoung doesn’t open the book— just takes his hands away and steps around Jaehyun to sit on the edge of the bed and make more space for them. 

Jaehyun comes to sit on the other side, holding a piece of cloth. He lets it drop onto the bed. Wrapped inside are silver rings, which spill out onto the sheet. Doyoung picks one up and watches as the embedded black gem catches the light.

“I recognize these,” he says quietly, “they belong to Donghyuck.”

“He was quite fond of silver jewelry, but stopped wearing it when he got closer to Johnny.” 

“Why?” Doyoung asks.

Jaehyun shrugs. “The same reason he and Johnny spend so much time out of the sun like the vampires now.”

Doyoung hums, picking up another ring. This one takes the form of a snake. He still can’t believe that Johnny, Mark, and Donghyuck are together, despite what Jaehyun has told him. He wonders if they really think the relationship is worth it, when it could cause them so many problems. He sighs and wraps the rings up again, then places them into a small pocket of his bag. 

“We’ll have to melt these down and extract the pure silver. But first, there are a few other ingredients we can gather in the forest nearby.”

“Really? I hadn’t recognized any of the ingredients you mentioned, except for silver and moonstone.”

“Dittany and valerian root can be found in this area, if you know where to look.”

☾

Under the cover of trees the air is cool and moist. The harsh sunlight is diluted, and shines down in small patches. Jaehyun follows him silently as they pick their way over roots and fallen branches. An owl hoots in the distance, an odd sound to hear in the middle of the day. He changes direction to follow the origin of the sound. 

“Tell me more about the side effects of the wolfsbane potion,” he says. 

“You have to take it every night the week before the full moon. And that week is—” Jaehyun pauses. Doyoung slows down his pace so they walk shoulder to shoulder. 

“It’s difficult. Everyone experiences it differently. I tend to sleep more than usual. But even when I’m awake, I’m constantly tired, usually spending that week in bed. Yuta describes it as a feeling of emptiness. Like the potion flushes all the emotions out of his system.” 

Doyoung hums, mind whirling. What ingredient in the potion could be causing that? It sounds like a psychological reaction, although Jaehyun’s body would also be working overtime to digest the poisonous silver. Jaehyun stares hard at the ground, lips turned downward, steps slowing. 

“I’m sorry. Whoever designed wolfsbane didn’t have the mental wellbeing of the wolves in mind,” Doyoung says. 

Jaehyun shrugs away Doyoung’s words. “It’s not a surprise. Did you know other magical beings thought wolves had totally lost their humanity? They were taught that the moon was in effect in the brain every day of the month, and only on the body the night of the full moon.”

“What?” 

“That’s what Johnny says, at least. When the Council was established, that teaching was abolished. I suppose nothing ever replaced it. We don’t really know much about each other, do we?” 

“We don’t.” Doyoung realizes they are standing still beneath a large oak tree, their search completely forgotten.

“Aren’t you curious?” 

“I am,” he admits, then starts walking again, looking at the different trees blindly as he mulls over Jaehyun’s words. “What do you know about witches?”

“Only what Donghyuck has told me— which is that the elders are terrible, he’s an extremely powerful witch, and you two are cruel for leaving him.” 

Doyoung scoffs, stomach swooping as he remembers that he and Taeyong left the city without saying goodbye. “Cruel is a strong word.” 

Doyoung spots a tree swaying in the opposite direction of the wind. He makes a triumphant noise as he pats around the roots. Underneath his hands the air shimmers, and light pink flowers appear at the edge of his vision. Jaehyun bends down next to him while Doyoung takes out his supplies. He instructs Jaehyun to pull out the flower and place only its small, thin roots in the vials. Jaehyun complies easily, and they work in silence for a few minutes. 

“What sparked your interest in potions?” Jaehyun asks as he closes one of the vials.

Doyoung takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Did you know that magic and medicine originated from the same source?” 

Jaehyun shakes his head. 

“Alchemy. Magic was originally about healing. It has evolved to be about power and control. Taeyong and Donghyuck are good people, but they’ve always dabbled in power. They may be afraid of their own power, but the truth is that they _like_ it— maybe because they have a natural propensity towards it, or maybe vice versa. But I was never interested in that kind of magic. I was always interested in healing— that’s why I went into potion making. It’s the magic closest to the alchemy of old times.” 

Doyoung takes a deep breath, and glances over at Jaehyun. His face is open, soft. Doyoung forces himself not to look away. 

“I’m glad it’s _you_ that is helping us,” Jaehyun says. 

“I wish you didn’t need help at all,” Doyoung responds. 

☾

The church pews are made of a dark-colored wood. He sits by the front, alone, and stares up at the statue before him. The light that shines through the stained glass windows paints red shadows over the statue’s sharp cheekbones, the dips between his ribs, the bones of his outstretched arms. Doyoung’s eyes trace the veins of his hands, the protruding collarbones, the wide, glazed eyes. He must admit, it is a striking image of death. He never truly understood the devotion that brought so much of the town to this building every Sunday morning, but he understands that the silence and stillness of the air could be cathartic. 

Only the quiet is disrupted by the clicking of shoes on the ground. Doyoung moves his gaze to his own shoes, used and muddy. Under the soles of his feet he can feel a faint pulsing. It was Taeyong who had deciphered the whispers from under the church, the first time they had come. Under the stone lies gold, silver, pearls. The town empties their pockets every Sunday to fund their service, not knowing where most of it goes. 

Clean, expensive shoes step into his vision, right in front of him. He looks up at the Priest. What a poor man for someone so draped in wealth, covered in layer upon layer of silk. What could fuel the need to hoard like a dragon in the mountains? Dragons were hunted to extinction years ago. Doyoung is surprised the same hasn’t happened to the Priest. 

“I hear you have a new friend,” the Priest says, staring down at Doyoung. 

Doyoung does not rise to meet the Priest’s eyes, but leans further back in his seat, tiling his head up. “I do. If you leave him alone, he should be gone in a few weeks.”

“The full moon is only two weeks away.” 

“Nothing will happen that night, except the tides on our coasts will grow stronger.” 

The Priest leans in, putting a hand on the wood by Doyoung’s shoulder. “Three demons in this town is too much. Only dangerous things come in threes.” 

“There is only _one_ demon in this town.” 

The Priest draws away, displeasure lining his face. Doyoung continues without giving him time to reply. “We have a deal. We keep your gold secret, you give us space.”

“I made no deal with the wolf.”

“The wolf is one of us, or there is no deal.”

The Priest steps back, spreads his arms out wide. The long sleeves of his robe unfurl, brushing the ground beneath him. “This town listens to me. We have existed for a long time without you, and will continue to exist when you leave. Never forget that you are nothing more than a stranger, even if you have started looking more like us, sounding like us. Nothing will change the fact that you _came_ here. You were born in the smog and the chill up the mountain. I was born here, in this very building, to the heat in the air and the people in this town.”

Doyoung’s eyes flit between the Priest, with his decadence-covered outstretched arms, and the statue behind him, arms equally outstretched but bleeding. He doesn’t let his face move from it’s position of neutrality, even as his brain parses through the words and clings onto them with sharp teeth. Unwelcome in his old home, unwelcome in his new home. The Priest is right about one thing— Doyoung will always be a stranger, alien to those around him, no matter where he is. The only place he has ever belonged was by Taeyong’s side, protector and protected. 

He stands up. “You may think your words, your books, your wealth, hold power. But don’t forget that I have seen true power that would cause men like you to quiver in your robes and burn.”

The Priest does not look intimidated. His face darkens into a scowl and he lowers his arms slowly. 

“Let us be,” Doyoung says, and walks down the aisle and into the night, the feeling of the Priest’s glare prickling the back of his neck. 

☾

“What is that?” 

“Star anise.”

“And that?”

“Lavender”

“And that?” 

“Melted silver. Could you pass me the swabs please, Taeyong?” Doyoung says as Jaehyun pokes around the table, touching things he shouldn’t. 

Taeyong slinks towards the cabinet and pulls out a box of cloth swabs. He hands it to Doyoung and then sits down again in his chair, head in his hands. “This is so interesting.” 

“I’m still really confused,” Jaehyun points out unhelpfully. Doyoung tries not to sigh as he mixes the lavender with a potion and holds it over a candle. This reminds him of his time teaching potions back with the Coven, an excitable audience before him asking questions and misunderstanding about half of what he has to say. Taeyong had always been easily fascinated and impressed by a branch of magic too calm for him to touch, whereas Donghyuck had always enjoyed straddling the thin lines between potion and poison. Jaehyun turns out to be just as excitable, although he seems to be most interested in asking questions until Doyoung runs out of patience. 

He gently grabs Jaehyun’s wrist and pulls up the sleeves of his shirt. Jaehyun goes still and silent under his fingers. “What is causing a lot of the side effects is the valerian root, which is a sleep aid and emotional suppressant. This was probably meant to keep you calm during transition, but is obviously messing with your brains and bodies. So I’m going to see if we can replace it with lavender, which has calming properties without being a suppressant.” 

Jaehyun nods, expression shuttered. 

“There’s a _reason_ you feel so bad. It’s not a failure on your part. Your brain just isn’t acting the way it is supposed to.” 

“I know that, logically. Just not, you know, emotionally.”

“Brains are like unruly, disobedient children. We have to take good care of them, put in a lot of work, and make sure they know who is in charge,” Taeyong adds on. 

“Right. So I’m going to apply a bit of lavender to your arm to make sure you don’t have any kind of negative reaction. If you do, your skin will turn a little red, and we’ll know to look for something else,” Doyoung says.

He takes out a cloth swab and dips it in the lavender potion. He carefully wipes it in a single dot on Jaehyun’s inner arm. The three of them watch his arm. The skin is pale, green-blue veins branching off by his wrist. Doyoung keeps his hands holding up Jaehyun’s arm, one on his elbow, the other on his forearm. The skin stays the same color.

Doyoung breathes out in relief and lets go of Jaehyun’s arm, his palms tingling. “Great. I’ll have to figure out the ratios, but we can replace the valerian root with lavender. It’ll make the potion much more pleasant to drink too. Now we’re going to try the same with star anise.” 

“What will the anise be replacing?” Jaehyun asks, rolling up his sleeve and offering Doyoung his other arm. Doyoung lets his fingers trail up from Jaehyun’s wrist to the crook of his elbow. He applies the anise potion the same way he had the lavender on Jaehyun’s other arm. 

“The silver. No way you should be ingesting something that poisons you every month. Silver has a connection to the moon, but so does anise. I’m hoping it will work,” Doyoung explains as the skin on Jaehyun’s arm stays its usual pale color. Doyoung nods and cleans off Jaehyun’s arms, then rolls down his sleeves. He feels the heat emanating off Jaehyun starkly— werewolves run a few degrees higher than humans. It’s a pleasant warmth though, and Doyoung feels oddly cold when Jaehyun moves away from him, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt sleeves. 

“That’s all I need from you today,” Doyoung says, turning away from Jaehyun and beginning to clean up the table. 

“You should stay for dinner though,” Taeyong says. Doyoung turns to send him a glare. Taeyong just smirks in response. 

“Should I?” Jaehyun asks, looking at Doyoung. 

“If you want,” Doyoung answers, refusing to meet his gaze and busying himself with the lavender. 

“I think I will then.” 

☾

The full moon is only one day away. Doyoung can feel it— in the sky, as the glow of moonlight grows stronger, in the night air that comes alive with the sound of cicadas, hooting owls and awakening bats. Most of all, he sees it in Jaehyun’s face. It becomes both more haggard and animal-like as the night goes on. Doyoung can’t take his eyes off him. Half-moon bruises are painted under his eyes, though he assures both Doyoung and Taeyong that he is fine, that this is how every month goes. More striking is the silver of his eyes, how his fangs catch the light, the way his bones have shifted almost imperceptibly under his skin to harshen his features.

They are in the middle of a field, picking the blue flowers of aconite which only bloom at night near the full moon. Taeyong has given them flowers to put in their hair. They suit Jaehyun— the sharpness of his face softens slightly. Doyoung raises his hands to his hair, fixing the flowers in place. A hand joins his own, and Jaehyun steps closer to help him place a flower behind his ear. 

“This is the second to last one, right?” Jaehyun murmurs. 

“Huh?” Doyoung says, eyes lifting from Jaehyun’s lips. 

“The aconite. After this, all we need is moonstone.”

“Oh. Yes. I am happy with how the lavender and anise are interacting. I think they should be able to replace the ingredients that have been causing the side effects. The only thing is—” he pauses. The truth is, he has no idea how they will get their hands on moonstone. And moonstone is the ingredient with the most ties to the moon’s cycle. There is no way they will be able to fix the potion without it. 

“What?” Jaehyun breathes. 

“Nothing. Nevermind,” Doyoung says. Jaehyun lets his arms drop and steps away from Doyoung. 

They continue their slow path through the field, occasionally bending down to pluck the aconite petals from the ground, placing them into their baskets. They murmur amongst themselves, careful not to disturb the quiet song of flying owls and rustling leaves that goes on around them. It’s interesting how color has drained away from the world, everything painted in shades of silver. Taeyong’s white hair is the brightest thing around.

Doyoung watches Taeyong breathe in deeply, happy to be surrounded by so much magic in the air. Their magic is stronger under the cover of darkness, and affected heavily by the moon’s cycle like the tides. The petals between his fingers send little jolts of electricity down his palms. Not enough to hurt, just enough to create slight tingling sensations. Taeyong and Doyoung whisper a quick hymn after plucking each flower— a short thank you to the earth for its generosity, magic flowing in the breath between each phrase. 

“Your magic— it exists within these flowers, doesn’t it?” Jaehyun asks.

“Our magic isn’t truly ours. It exists everywhere, in the veins of this petal as much as in the veins of our hands. That’s what using magic is all about. Recognizing that kinship, realizing that we are really the same as the flowers that bloom and die around us,”

“That reminds me of something Yuta used to say. He said that being a werewolf doesn’t mean being controlled by the moon, but becoming a part of its existence. The cycle of life passes like the cycle of the moon, and we’re lucky to be a part of something so beautiful.” 

“I had always assumed werewolves held a certain amount of fear for the moon,” Doyoung admits.

“Not at all. It makes us feel connected to something, like we’re a small part of something bigger than ourselves.” 

“That sounds comforting,” Doyoung says, thinking of the rows of pews in the church, the streets of homes in the town, the Coven’s house with its many rooms. 

Jaehyun nods. “That’s why the wolf pack is so important. I don’t think I would have survived without them.” 

“You’re close to them?” 

“Oh, absolutely. It’s unconditional. I had never experienced anything like it before.” 

Doyoung hums, looking towards Taeyong. “Before your bite?”

Jaehyun nods, but doesn’t offer any more information. Doyoung doesn’t press, despite his curiosity. Jaehyun’s expression is distant, his mind far from the field. They continue walking in silence, filling their baskets with flowers. 

Taeyong bounds over to them minutes later, a smile shining on his face. “I just ran into an owl’s nest. The babies are so cute. I love them.” 

“That’s great Yong,” Doyoung says, “wanna show us where they are?”

He nods eagerly. “Follow me. But if you bother the babies, I’ll hex you.” 

Taeyong leads them off the edge of the field, into a tree with a small nest. They watch the owls from a distance, their eyes huge and shining, their bodies round and soft. Taeyong vibrates with excitement next to him, cooing under his breath. 

When the night is over, Doyoung feels lighter than he has in months. He spends the next day chopping up the aconite into powder and storing it properly in between helping customers at the shop. Despite his lack of sleep, he feels energized, happy to be kept busy. 

It is Taeyong who reminds him, during a late lunch, that tonight is the full moon, and what that really means. “He can’t stay with the Na’s tonight. See if you can call their home and invite him here.” 

Taeyong refuses to do the calling, claiming that the telephone doesn’t like him. So Doyoung flips through his address book and reluctantly holds the phone up to his ear. Jaemin is the one who answers, and Doyoung endures a fair amount of teasing before the phone is passed to Jaehyun. 

“Would you like to stay the night?” he asks.

“My, what a proposition,” Jaehyun says, his soothing voice lilting in amusement. 

“Oh please, Jaemin gave me enough grief. Just get down here before it gets dark.”

He hangs up the phone before Jaehyun can say anything else, face hot and palms sweaty. He and Taeyong prepare a space out in the garden, full of protection magic, and he lights some lavender incense to keep the space calm. They imagine Jaehyun— in wolf form— would not want to be cooped up inside. Taeyong tells him that the plants are okay with the visitor and are prepared for his presence. 

Jaehyun arrives as soon as they finish preparations. His car pulls up in front of the house, the loudest thing on the street. His face is pale and shadowed, though he carries a smile and a bag of produce from Na's as a gift. They sit at the table, picking at their food, night falling around them without fail. Doyoung forces his hands to remain steady as he watches Jaehyun take small bites of his food. Taeyong keeps on running his hand over the basil plant that sits in the middle of the table. Conversation is short, stilted. Even updates about the potion are met with silence. 

Eventually Jaehyun gets up, clearing his throat. “It’s almost time. I should go outside.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Taeyong asks, wringing his hands. 

“I do have one request. Please don’t come out to see me while the moon is out.”

“Of course,” Taeyong says while Doyoung nods along emphatically. 

Doyoung watches Jaehyun make his way towards the back door. He notices that Jaehyun has finally abandoned his stuffy button ups and wears a light shirt, probably lent to him by one of the Na’s, which suits the heat much better. 

“Wait,” he says, impulsively racing towards one of the living room shelves and pulling out a stem of aconite. He goes back to Jaehyun, stopping inches from him as he lifts his arm to tuck the flower behind Jaehyun’s ear. His hand drops lightly on Jaehyun’s shoulder. 

“To keep you company,” he says quietly, lips impossibly close to the shell of Jaehyun’s ear. 

Jaehyun reaches up to touch one of the petal’s, then Doyoung’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, just as quiet. 

Doyoung nods, satisfied, and leaves Jaehyun to the garden and the full moon. He begins his preparations for bed. He and Taeyong dance around each other in the bathroom. Taeyong presses close to him, toothbrush in one hand. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

“Of course not,” Doyoung answers, gaze locked on Taeyong through the mirror. Taeyong frowns backs at him. 

“It’ll be okay,” Doyoung says, wrapping an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders. Taeyong just puts his toothbrush in his mouth, mumbling nonsensically around it. 

When Doyoung is in bed, sweating under his sheets like usual, he resigns himself to a night without sleep. He knew this was coming, of course. There was no way he would be able to close his eyes and shut off his mind, knowing that Jaehyun was just outside his door, body likely tired and drained. He reads through his Gray Book. But even the repetitive lists of ingredients and instructions do nothing to shut off the buzzing in the back of his head. 

He places the book back on his nightstand and flips over, letting out a huff. He slips out of bed and heads towards the front, into the store section. He checks the labels of each of the jars, refills the ones that are half-empty, then sorts them by use— scratches, burns, bites, and bruises. He dozes off, somewhere between the shelves, and loses the rest of the night.

☾

The shrill ringing of the telephone jolts him out of sleep. Doyoung nearly smacks his head on a shelf as he sits up too suddenly. He sits still for a moment, hoping Taeyong will stumble out of bed and answer the call. But the sound continues to grate against his ears so he hauls himself up and makes his way towards the back.

“Hello,” he grumbles, picking up the phone.

“Hi, this is Johnny. Is Jaehyun there?”

“Johnny?” Doyoung asks, brain catching up to the name as he wakes up fully. Johnny? The pack leader? The Council member? _That_ Johnny?

“This is an emergency,” Johnny says, voice tinny and impatient through the phone. 

A hand slips past his own and takes the phone from him. Doyoung blinks at a sleep-ruffled Jaehyun, twigs and grass in his hair but looking healthier than it had yesterday.

“Hey Johnny. What’s going on?” 

Doyoung watches as the voice on the phone tells a story he can’t quite hear. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as Jaehyun’s face falls. 

“What’s happening?” he demands as Jaehyun puts down the phone. 

Jaehyun rubs at his eyes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. “It’s an emergency up in the city. Donghyuck has been attacked by a werewolf.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed the update! pls leave kudos/comment if u can <3 
> 
> talk to me about witchcraft on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


	4. interlude: one last time before we depart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very quick interlude before we go back to doyoung!

Town square in the evening breathes in the sounds of children playing, couples making promises under the palm trees, old ladies enjoying the dwindling sunlight, and breathes out a warm breeze to greet its inhabitants. Seulgi feels the wind play with the hair by her shoulders, shakes her head a bit in response. It feels good after being trapped under a motorcycle helmet all day. She looks over to Sooyoung beside her, who glows despite the darkness creeping into the air.

“Did you have a good time today?” she asks, trying and failing to meet Sooyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you kidding?” Sooyoung says, leading them towards a bench tucked away in a corner, “today was amazing.”

Seulgi can’t hide her pleased flush. She kicks a stone on the ground. “You weren’t worried about crashing, right?”

Sooyoung snorts, then hides a laugh from Seulgi’s earnest eyes. “I felt safe, don’t worry,” she says, expression moulding into something serious.

A breath wooshes out of Seulgi’s chest, air stale like it had been hiding in there all day. Seulgi’s last partner didn’t like her motorcycle. He always said it was a reckless habit, one stemming from the need for attention. He had never gone on a ride with her. Sooyoung, though, had spent the day laughing wildly, arms wrapped around Seulgi’s waist, shouting over the wind. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. Maybe she inches just a bit closer to Sooyoung on the bench. Maybe Sooyoung inches closer to her. Their little bubble bursts when a commotion on the other side of the square steals the calm out of the air. She tenses as Seungkwan stalks over to them, covered in flour, shirt dark and drenched in an unidentifiable liquid. 

“ _You_ ,” he says, glowering over them. 

Those eyes, she thinks, I used to drown in them. They’re still dark and depthless, but now, they scare her. 

“Do you need something?” Sooyoung asks, crossing her arms, lips downturned. 

“Look, I can handle you being angry at me, but do you know what I’ve been through the last few days? Something has gone wrong for me at _every turn_.”

“Sounds like some bad luck,” Seulgi says, wishing her voice were stronger, but her words come out meek. 

“This isn’t coincidental,” he barks. “I know you went to _them_ for revenge.”

The newest of _them_ — the newest strange addition to the town, still a stranger— takes that moment to drive through the square, as if summoned. His car crawls down the road, and the three of them turn their heads to stare through his window. He has a neutral expression on his meticulously carved face, perfectly overdressed for the heat, shoulders ramrod straight. Somehow, he must feel the weight of their stares, because his eyes flit over to their group. Then, a flash of silver, and he looks up at the sky. Seulgi blinks, and the car turns the corner.

Seulgi looks up at the sky, where Jaehyun’s gaze rested for only a moment. It’s a darkening blue, and, if she remembers correctly, the promise of a full moon hangs heavy behind the clouds. 

“You know you can’t trust him,” Seungkwan says, though the fight has left his voice. 

“I do, though,” Seulgi says without thinking.

“Priest Heechul says they may bring more of theirkind. I mean, they’ve already grown to three. Who knows when they’ll stop.” 

Seulgi can’t stop the laugh at those words. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” She feels hesitance beside her, and looks over at Sooyoung in surprise. “Don’t you agree?” 

Sooyoung shifts in her seat, slipping her hands into the space between her thighs and the wood. “I mean, my uncle says their teas have really helped his arthritis. But I don’t really want them to set up an entire neighborhood of, you know, people like them.” 

Seulgi frowns, unsure of where this idea of an invasion of outsiders came from. Then again, she grew up here— the people of this town like it because it’s _theirs_. “I really don’t think that’s something we should worry about.”

“I’m just saying,” Seungkwarn shrugs, “Heechul has a point. You’ve always been too trusting.”

The words grate against her ears. “I know that,” she snaps. “But I didn’t ask Taeyong or Doyoung to do anything.” She feels something inside her grow, an ugly animal choosing to hurt someone instead of herself for once. She straightens her posture to match the way Jaehyun had held himself in the car. “I don’t even care about you enough to exact revenge.”

Seungkwan may see through the lie— the half lie, that is— but he doesn’t press for once. He just rolls his eyes dismissively and walks away with feigned nonchalance (they’re both liars). Once he’s out of sight, Seulgi lets herself sag against the bench. Sooyoung puts a hand on her knee. “He doesn’t deserve you.” She pauses. “But he’s right about one thing. You shouldn’t trust strangers. It’s not safe.” 

Seulgi crosses her legs, knocking Sooyoung’s hand off in the process. “Okay,” she mumbles. Suddenly the air is too sticky, the hard wood of the bench digs into her back. She can’t stop thinking about the flash of silver in Jaehyun’s eyes. She meets Sooyoung’s brown eyes— a child of this town, just like her. Years ago they had played on the steps of this very square, chalk-covered fingers and messy hair. It’s in their blood, she supposes, the heat, the air, and the palm trees. 


	5. when not where, here and now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is some description of an injury in this chapter btw!

_If faced with an emergency_ , Doyoung’s mother had once told him when he was eight years old and crying over a cauldron that had caught on fire, _figure out exactly what it is you need and how to get it_. At the time, he hadn’t understood what she meant. What he needed was a cauldron that didn’t burst into flames. Years later the advice has held up in every magical accident he’s seen.

But what about now, he thinks, when he’s not in an emergency, but three hours down the mountain from it? The emergency in question is an ambiguous blob, vaguely human shaped, red-tinged and broken.

That doesn’t stop his mind from climbing into the pages of his memory filled with ingredients and their uses, carefully collected over the years and kept in perfect shape. He sees it as if it had happened yesterday: one of the potion masters in the Coven waving an aconite petal beneath his nose. “Used in wolfsbane,” the teacher had said, “and in case of a wolf attack.” Then he laughed and crushed the petal between two fingers, “not that you’ll ever have to worry about that. The wolves don’t come near us.”

But here’s the catch: a wolf _has_ come to him, stands closer than he should, hand frozen in midair, looking at him like he has all the answers. 

The answers to what? The problem: a wolf got too close. A witch is bleeding and a wolf is bloody. Aconite, then, the solution. More potent when freshly picked like their own. Better than anything the Coven could get Donghyuck for weeks. Would it make a difference in three hours? It could stop an infection. 

Doyoung has ripped his eyes away from Jaehyun and stares at the aconite. Jaehyun and Taeyong follow his gaze. Only Taeyong understands— Doyoung knows what he’ll say before he says it. There’s a bleeding heart reflected in Taeyong’s eyes. Bleeding soul because he bleeds power. That’s why he can’t come with. 

“You have to go,” Taeyong tells Doyoung.

“What?” Jaehyun asks.

“I can’t come with you,” Taeyong adds.

“Hold on,” Jaehyun unfreezes, putting the telephone back in its place, uses silence to make space for an explanation. 

“They won’t welcome me back,” Doyoung says, petty in his vague answer, because Taeyong knows Doyoung will go, if there’s a chance they can help Donghyuck, even a little. But Doyoung feels like rubbing salt into an open wound. Taeyong doesn’t let him.

“You’re not going back to them. Just make sure Hyuck is okay.”

“They— the Coven? What exactly—” Jaehyun stops himself from falling down a rabbit hole. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I have my car. We can leave. Now.”

 _Now_. Doyoung always wondered when he would go back to the city, if ever. He has his answer. It’s now, and not like he ever imagined it would be. Basketful of flowers in his hand, a frantically packed bag heavy on his shoulder, a werewolf waiting for him in the front seat and Taeyong looking at him with a goodbye trapped between his lashes like tears. It’s an expression Doyoung has never seen. There was always an understanding between them— there would never be a goodbye. 

It’s anticlimactic, at least on the outside. The sun still hesitates against the horizon, not quite awake, just like the town. Even the birds and insects are muted so as to not wake the sleepers. He wraps Taeyong up in his arms, presses his face into the platinum hair. The warmth of Taeyong’s vibrant energy seeps into Doyoung’s skin, familiar. Doyoung met Taeyong when they were so young, when they had so much room to grow, and over the years Taeyong has wedged himself into all the corners and edges of Doyoung’s personality. All the space Doyoung has learned to take up has a trace of Taeyong in it. 

He’s thinking about it now— how much of himself is made up of Taeyong, and swallowing down a lump in his throat. The sounds are muffled but inside his own mind an alarm rings. 

“Stay safe,” Taeyong says, pulling away. 

“I’ll be back.” A promise.

The sound of the car door closing is too loud— _bang_ — and startles the world awake. Taeyong waves from the curb while the sun begins its morning climb. They pass by an old man sweeping his porch, then by a couple sitting on rocking chairs with steaming mugs of coffee in their hands. 

Jaehyun stays quiet next to him. Doyoung takes a moment to gaze at his side profile, sure that he can feel the weight of it. Jaehyun stares straight ahead, driving past the dwindling houses as they reach the edge of town. He’s not even waiting for Doyoung to say something, even if the lack of explanation sits prominent in the backseat. 

“The aconite is for Donghyuck. Taeyong can’t come with us because the Coven will strip him of his powers if he does.” Two sentences, but they should be enough. For now.

There goes the last house— recognizable by its faded yellow color. Doyoung passes it every time he convinces Seulgi to take him to the neighboring farms to find new plants. In the pale morning light it looks washed out, an off-white paint job feebly trying to bring color into the world. 

“Okay,” Jaehyun says, and doesn’t ask for more. Just like the last house, Jaehyun tries to look more alive than he really is. A week of wolfsbane and a full moon don’t bode well for the bruises under his eyes or the way he takes a second too long to blink. 

“Stop.”

The car grinds to a halt. Jaehyun stares owlishly at Doyoung. 

_You’re exhausted_ , Doyoung thinks. _You listen_ , he adds, to soften the blow. 

“Let me drive,” he says quietly. Jaehyun doesn’t argue— does he know what Doyoung means? Either way, they slide out of their seats and switch places, meeting in front of the car on the way. They stop, for a moment, just to look at each other. Doyoung wants to unravel the threads of time and give Jaehyun back his lost night. Instead, he walks to the driver's seat and runs his hands over the wheel to familiarize himself with the car. It rumbles over stone and dust, unsteady as it makes its way up the mountain.

☾

Half an hour into the drive, the sun has chosen to settle into the sky and warms up the inside of the car. They try opening the windows, but the dust kicked up by the tires sticks to the back of their throats which has them coughing and scrambling the close the windows again. Sweat trickles down Doyoung’s back, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to stay quiet and call on sleep to take over Jaehyun.

Soon enough, Jaehyun has his head pressed against the window, breath coming out deep and soft. Doyoung does his best to keep the ride smooth. He’s a careful driver, too slow for most people’s tastes, but he likes to feel in control of the car.

Doyoung focuses on the stillness of Jaehyun’s sleeping body beside him to distract himself from his pounding heart. He grips the wheel tightly, retracing a journey he had made a year ago, but in the opposite direction. A journey back to the city had only ever existed in the back of his mind, a whisper of a dream, a place that flitted in and out of vision in his murky future. 

The tree-shrouded roads open up, the dust on the streets is replaced with concrete, and the car joins the flow of travelers heading towards the same direction. Jaehyun wakes up around then, and they finally crack open the windows. Doyoung meets Jaehyun’s gaze for a second and can’t help but smile at the mess of hair on his head, still filled with grass and twigs, now knotted by the wind’s angry fingers. It’s a stark departure from Jaehyun’s usual gelled back style. Doyoung likes it. 

“Feeling better?” he says loudly over the whistling wind.

“Definitely. You were right— I did need some sleep,” Jaehyun replies, dimples gracing his cheeks as he smiles with the admission.

Doyoung yanks his attention back to the road with mild alarm as the sudden _ba-dum_ in his chest jostles him, regaining control of the car and taking a deep breath. His face feels oddly warm. He opens the window a little more.

The city skyline eventually makes its way into view, daunting and familiar all at once. “Do you know where exactly Donghyuck is?” he asks, wondering if he should head to the North side, where the Coven owns a scattering of homes, or the South side where the wolves are rumored to live. The four corners of the city act as perfect boundaries between the four magical factions— it’s like whoever designed the city _wanted_ them to stay away from each other.

“Johnny told me Donghyuck should be with the Coven.”

Doyoung nods and switches lanes in order to take the correct exit to head towards the North. He forces his fingers not to tremble. It’s not that he wants to walk into a den of wolves— it’s that he wants to see the Coven even less. 

They make it onto the streets of Doyoung’s childhood. The houses are old, red and brown brick, decorated with curling vines and old money. Every corner has a memory attached to it— there’s a building with PSYCHIC written in neon red lights by the door. He remembers going there with Taeyong one night, tarot cards and crystals peering into their future and unearthing riddles. One block over, the coffee shop where he spent his afternoons pouring over the Gray Book, filling it’s margins with notes and scribbles. 

In a small park nestled between two buildings he thinks he sees a figure with Donghyuck’s light brown hair. It looks wrong, somehow— limbs angled unnaturally, neck twisted painfully. He almost jerks the car to a stop, but when he blinks again, the figure is gone. He takes a deep breath and realizes Jaehyun is asking him a question.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asks faintly. 

There’s a finger brushing his cheek, softer than he thought Jaehyun could be. Only then does he notice that his cheeks are wet. 

“Oh,” he laughs in embarrassment, “sorry. I didn’t realize— I mean— it’s just a lot. I’m worried about Hyuck, and this is my first time back home.” He pauses. “Back here,” he corrects himself. 

“That’s okay. Homes can be painful places to come back to.”

Doyoung doesn't respond. He’s not sure this is his home, not anymore. When did he decide this city was not his? Maybe the day he left. Maybe before that. Maybe it was never really his. And anyway, who decided to draw a shape on a map and call this place by a name? They split it up into four neat little quadrants, invisible lines and transparent walls. Come to think of it, who decided that faded yellow house was the last house in La Mata? 

In a way, he is living in both of those places, existing in one and another, waking up in the same body every time. _Where_ is the wrong question. _When_ is the right one. _Home_ is not the right word, but _now_ — I am here now— and nowI am here _._ Yesterday, today and the ever-teasing tomorrow are all made up of _heres_ and _nows_ hidden behind different names. 

He catches his falling thoughts before they reach the point of no return, switching gears to focus on fitting the car into a too-small space on the curb. "This is where most of the younger witches live. Apprentices and whatnot. I actually— I used to live here," Doyoung explains, the pressure of time and the image of a bloody Donghyuck in his mind rendering his hands incompetent. He pulls out and tries again.

"Did you live here with Taeyong?"

"No. Taeyong wasn't welcome." Doyoung manages to fit the car into place and pauses to step out of the car. He meets Jaehyun's eye as they step onto the sidewalk, shrugging his bag over his shoulder. "But Donghyuck always managed to figure out a way to sneak him in."

"That sounds like Hyuck," Jaehyun says, smile crooked. A jolt of surprise makes its way through Doyoung's fingertips— he forgot, for a moment, so self involved in his own misery, of how much he actually shares with Jaehyun. Parallel memories of the same friend, the same city. Jaehyun had said homes are painful to come back to— that implies he left a home in the first place. Doyoung desperately wants to peer under Jaehyun's eyes, curious as to what he'll find there.

But he doesn't have the time. "I have to go inside," Doyoung says, hand on the door. His sweaty hands turn the door handle slippery, and for a second Doyoung's brain convinces him that the knob is covered in blood. His hands fall off the door, and he wipes them against his pants. The door handle is brass, the shape of a snarling lion engraved in the metal.

"Werewolves can't enter witch territory," Jaehyun says.

"I forgot." Doyoung feels himself floundering against the steps. Of course they aren't allowed in witch homes— they rarely make it up to the North part of the city anyway. He had never thought about it. Are witches banned from the homes of wolves? He isn't sure. "I wish you could come with me."

"I know. I do too."

And with that, Doyoung opens the door to the sound of screaming.

☾

The sheets are painted red, splatters of blood that soak into the mattress below them. Donghyuck is there, writhing and yelling at the top of his lungs, wrestling with a pale looking Yeri.

"Let me go! They'll get him— like they did— he's not safe— let me—" he struggles to sit up, voice cracking over his words.

"Don't move, you fucking idiot, you're going to make it worse," Yeri snaps at him, pushing him back down. It's only then that Donghyuck notices him, standing frozen at the doorway.

Donghyuck's body goes limp. He stops fighting against Yeri, just raises an arm to point towards the door. "Are hallucinations a symptom of a werewolf attack?" he asks.

Yeri whips around, jaw dropping. " _Doyoung?_ "

The call of his name snaps Doyoung out of his shock. He rushes over to the bed to get a good look at Donghyuck's injuries, dropping his bag by his feet.

"Yeri, fill me on on what happened here."

"Well, it's mostly his thigh—" Doyoung lets his gaze skip over the bruises and scratches on Donghyuck’s face and arms, and focuses on Donghyuck's leg, swallowing down nausea at what he sees. The skin there, once smooth and uninterrupted, has been cut by what looks like claws. Someone had done a sloppy job to sew it together, but Donghyuck's movements have opened up the wounds again, so blood makes it through the barely stitched together skin. "But he won't stay still."

As if reminded by Yeri's words, Donghyuck jolts into action again. He shoots up, gripping Doyoung's shirt and pulling him down so that their faces are only inches apart. He has tear tracks staining his cheeks, and his eyes are red and wild. They rove over Doyoung's face. "You have to get him before they do," he says, voice hoarse from all the shouting.

"Hyuck, I have to clean this up. Then I promise we'll help him," Doyoung says, doing the best he can to talk in a soft voice. Donghyuck looks at him like a cornered animal, hands twitching against Doyoung's chest.

"There's no time."

"Okay, I hear you," Doyoung says, reaching into his bag and pulling out a vial of jatamansi oil while he holds Donghyuck's gaze. "Just let me do this one thing." He moves quickly, placing a drop of oil on Donghyuck's temple, then his wrists. The calming effect is immediate— it's not a diluted solution.

Relaxing back into the covers, Donghyuck blinks at them slowly. "You have to find Yuta," he murmurs.

"We will," Doyoung says, filing the name away into his memory while he goes through his bag. He places his copy of the Gray Book onto the table, then pulls out the aconite leaves. "Yeri, will you crush these and mix them with water while I re-do the stitches?"

His hands move quickly. He pulls out his robust emergency kit, and for a moment forgets exactly where he is, exactly who he is, who’s leg he keeps still under his fingers. He just breathes in and out, fingers steady as he slides a needle through skin. All he thinks about is the injury at hand and how to deal with it. 

Yeri comes up to him, handing him a bowl filled with aconite paste. “Thank you,” he says, taking the bowl from her shaking hands.

The aconite improves things immediately. The magic in the wounds turns them an angry red, but the blue paste cools down the color a bit. Donghyuck lets out a sigh. “That feels good,” he admits.

Doyoung gives the paste back to Yeri. “We have to put this on his wounds every hour for the next six hours. It should help.” 

She nods. “Doyoung, they—” she hesitates. “The Elders found him. Bleeding on the sidewalk on the South side. They brought him here, stitched him up, then left.” 

Doyoung feels something ugly curl in his chest. “They just left him here, like this?”

“He was hysterical,” she says miserably, “and they cursed the room so he can’t leave. For his own safety, they said.” The regurgitated words of the Elders come out poisonous. “I don’t think the others know.”

It’s Taeyong, all over again. The details are different, but the sentiment is the same. Doyoung suddenly gets the wild idea to try to break the curse on this room, to carry Donghyuck to Jaehyun’s car, run away and never look back. Donghyuck must somehow sense what he’s thinking, because he reaches a hand out and wraps it around Doyoung’s wrist. 

His eyes have cleared into something cold and hard. “Doyoung, I need you to leave.”

“What?”

“Go to Johnny. Find Yuta.”

“I can’t just leave you here like this,” Doyoung protests.

Donghyuck’s smile is sharp. It does something to his face, an unidentifiable difference, and Doyoung wonders if he really knows this Donghyuck at all. “You left once. You can do it again. And if you don’t help Yuta,” his smile sinks into something ferocious, “I’ll make you.”

“Please don’t misunderstand,” Yeri whispers, “he’s terrified.”

But Doyoung can’t keep the disbelief off his face. He remembers, years ago, a young Donghyuck had come to him and Taeyong, a tear stained summer child. “I’m bad,” he had howled at them, small fists flailing, “you have to get rid of me.” He had discovered his charmspeak years too late, had been using it on the people around him, his parents, his teachers, his friends unknowingly.

“Do you only love me because I told you to?” It was a heartbreaking thing for a ten-year old to say. That day he had promised them one thing, and one thing only. “I’ll never use it on you.”

“He must be scared out of his mind,” Doyoung says finally. Donghyuck flinches away from him. His harsh expression is gone and he looks a second away from crying, or maybe laughing, or maybe sleeping. It’s not clear what he’s on the edge of, but he’s on the edge of something. “I promise you we’ll find Yuta.”

“Doyoung, a werewolf _attacked_ one of us. Will the Elders retaliate against wolves? And how will the wolves respond?” Yeri wrings her hands, eyes locked on all the broken skin before them.

“I don’t know. But we won’t let things escalate anymore, okay? Can you stay here with him while I go? Make sure he’s okay. I’ll call you in a few hours to check in.”

“I’ll try,” she says, her shoulder hunching in on themselves. 

“Thank you. I know you can do this,” he says softly. She gives him a watery smile.

Doyoung runs a hand through Donghyuck’s hair. It’s matted with sweat. “You’re safe here, you know that, right?” Donghyuck shakes his head. “Just— just rest.” Doyoung takes a deep breath, trying not to choke on the heavy air. “I’ll be back.”

☾

Whereas the drive to the North side had consisted of Jaehyun keeping Doyoung from falling apart at the seams, the southbound drive covers the car in a figurative mess of brain and body parts as they both break down, tripping over their words and their thoughts. Jaehyun sits frozen as Doyoung describes the injuries, and pales at the mention of Yuta.

“Yuta would never attack someone like that. It must be a mis—” 

“I don’t know what happened exactly,” Doyoung hastens to add, “but he says Yuta is in danger. Whether he attacked Hyuck or not is beside the point— we just need to find him first.”

“Will Hyuck be okay?” Jaehyun asks, failing to meet Doyoung’s eyes. 

“I think so. As long as the wound doesn’t get infected— which the aconite will help with— he should recover completely. There was no bite.”

Jaehyun sinks into the chair, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. “That’s the only good news I’ve heard all day.”

They are quiet on their way to the wolves’ territory. Doyoung is unfamiliar with the streets, so Jaehyun gives him directions, the only words that buffer their silence. The tall, proud houses fade away to drab concrete slabs, overcrowded apartment buildings filled with sharp edges and small windows. They park a few blocks away, and walk up the streets and into a building. Doyoung’s calves burn as they walk up the steps, then Jaehyun knocks on a faded burgundy door. 

The door opens to reveal a pale, dead face. “You brought a witch here?” the vampire asks. Doyoung bristles at the unfriendly tone. 

“Mark, we were just with Hyuck,” Jaehyun responds. 

The vampire— Mark, Doyoung corrects himself, who had taken up a seat at the Council, replacing the previous decaying head vampire, around the time Doyoung had left— immediately lets them through. “How is he? What did he say? Was he bitten? Can I go see him? Do you know who did it because we aren’t sure but there’s someone missing and—”

“Mark,” Doyoung says, schooling his voice into something warm and welcoming, “he wasn’t bitten. Yeri—a friend— is with him now, making sure he’s alright.” 

Mark nods along, clinging to his words with a kind of desperation Doyoung has never seen. He leads them to a small room with dingy lighting and a crooked table. “So he’s okay?” 

Doyoung hesitates. “He seems quite shaken.” 

Mark puts his head in his hands. His shoulders shake. Doyoung looks away. He’s not meant to see the leader of the vampires under ugly fluorescent lights crying over someone he loves. Vampires belong under the grand archways of abandoned churches and the neon gleam of the red light district. He sees Jaehyun cross his arms in his peripheral vision, knee bouncing under the table.

In that moment, the door opens and Doyoung twists in his seat to see two wolves stalk in. One is tall and imposing, the other smaller and wearing a scowl. They stop in their tracks at the sight of the table. It must be a strange image— a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf huddled together, the vampire crying, the witch staring at the floor, the werewolf digging his nails into his arms. 

“Johnny!” Both Jaehyun and Mark jump up immediately. 

“Have you heard from Hyuck?” Mark asks eagerly.

Johnny, the tall imposing wolf, walks up to Mark, putting an arm around his shoulder. “I haven’t heard from him, but—”

“That witch was just with him,” Mark says, pointing at Doyoung.

Doyoung gets up, inlining his head in Johnny’s direction. “No bite, and no infection as far as I could tell,” he says stiffly. 

Johnny surprises him by offering a warm smile. “Thanks for the information. Do you know if he can come stay with us while he heals?”

“He can’t.” 

The warmth flickers for a half a second, then comes back. “You must be Doyoung, then? If you’re here with Jaehyun?” 

“I am,” Doyoung confirms.

Mark perks up by Johnny’s side. “We’ve heard a lot about you! I didn’t know you were _the_ Doyoung.” 

It seems Donghyuck’s stamp of approval goes a long way in this house. Doyoung has never had someone preface his name with a “ _the”_ before. Jaehyun snorts beside him and Doyoung elbows him for it. He notices Johnny watching the actions sharply.

“So you came back to the city, huh?” Mark continues, “Hyuck must have been ecstatic to see you.”

 _Not so much_ , Doyoung thinks privately. “He’s really concerned about Yuta right now. Do you know where he is?”

“Wendy was just looking for him,” Johnny says, gesturing to the werewolf he had come in with to speak. 

The temperature of the room drops. Wendy pushes her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. “We tracked him to somewhere on the North side, but lost his scent near the Coven buildings. We’re not sure exactly where he is,” she reports. Her eyes are hard and unforgiving as they bore into Doyoung, like he knows where Yuta is and is keeping the location to himself.

“ _You_ lost the scent? You’re the best tracker in the pack, how are we supposed to find him now?” Jaehyun asks. 

It’s the last piece of information Doyoung needs. Now that he knows the Coven has Yuta, there’s only one place he could be. 

“I know where he is,” Doyoung announces. He puts his hands behind his back to hide his trembling fingers. 

All eyes fall on him. He ignores the unfamiliar faces and focuses on Jaehyun, who looks at him with wide eyes. He takes half a moment to pick apart the expression— is there fear there? Is there trust? He startles himself by how desperately he wants Jaehyun to trust him. But if he hears about the Coven’s dirtiest secret, will he still trust Doyoung? 

“Do you know what happened to Taeyong?” he asks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this really,,, is only like 30% of what i planned to include in the chapter but then i thought it would get way too long and i just wanted to post something to prove i hadn't forgotten about this fic so. here u go. some scraps of food. 
> 
> the next update should come faster!! i just got side tracked and posted like 2 other fics instead of working on this one oops
> 
> go yell at me (nicely) to write the other 70% of my chapter outline on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_), or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)
> 
> also, any guesses as to what exactly happened to taeyong? and where is yuta???? :)


	6. interlude: maybe this isn't his story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT ANOTHER INTERLUDE  
> yes we are taking a break from the current plot point to have some of that good johnmarkhyuck food for the soul. this takes on a slightly different tone from the rest of the story but is hopefully a good break from the last chapter which was angstier  
> next chapter I PROMISE what happened with taeyong will be revealed and we will find out where yuta is so STAY TUNED!!!! i just had to draw it out a tiny bit more >:) 
> 
> an alternative title for this interlude is: mark lee tries to break up with his boyfriend and ends up with two boyfriends instead

When Mark accepts a position on the Council, he secretly thinks that it’s not because he’s the most leader-like vampire, but the least intimidating. The vampires have teased him endlessly for it— he’s basically vegetarian, he could never hurt a fly, he’s never stepped foot in the red light district. And it makes sense. Of course they would want the face of the vampire clan to be harmless. 

So he takes the job with a fair amount of trepidation and the insistent doubt that he doesn’t belongwhispering in his ear every day. The leader of the fae is graceful and cunning, the witch Elders are a cold, private duo, and then there’s Johnny. The first time he meets Johnny, he thinks _that’s who I should be_. Tall, confident, talks the others in circles without them realizing he’s doing it. 

He latches on to Johnny for mentorship. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He thinks about the way Johnny holds himself, the curve of his lips, the way he talks about his pack like they’re his family, and aches for something he doesn’t have. Johnny, thankfully, seems happy to be spending extra time with him, agreeing easily every time Mark asks him to stay late after the witches and fae leave. 

They’re a good team. In the first few months they’ve already resolved a few skirmishes between the vampires in the East and the werewolves in the South. The vampires get access to the blood bags in the big hospital towards the southern tip of the city in exchange for an opening of the doors to the red light district. The move raises quite a few eyebrows, but many of the wolves make it to the district with a curiosity for the infamous liquids and powders for sale there. 

“You’re a good partner to have,” Johnny tells him, which has Mark hacking up air out of his lungs that he doesn’t even need. “I mean, work-wise.” Johnny grins at him and watches patiently as Mark tries to form a sentence while simultaneously willing a wooden stake to suddenly embed itself in his heart. 

It’s when he realizes that he would probably agree to anything Johnny brings up to the Council that he _knows_. Sure, Johnny is smart and has good ideas, but most importantly Mark is half-way in love with him and would probably eat a pound of garlic for him if he asked. They spend more and more time together, forsaking the stuffy Council buildings for empty parks and playgrounds at night. Johnny splashes him in fountains, lays with him on the grass, walks quietly by his side when the moon is almost full with strained and hooded eyes. 

“You’re not so bad, for a vampire,” Johnny says one night when they’re swinging on an empty swing set. 

“You’re not half bad either,” Mark manages to sputter out, and almost topples off the swing when Johnny gets up and bends in half to lean down and kiss him on the mouth. 

Because he’s an idiot, he tries to stop what they have. “I have a responsibility to the vampires,” he insists. “How can I be objective about their safety when we’re, _you know_.” And then he gestures at the fact that they’re naked in bed and Mark is harder than he’s ever been in his life andafter-life. 

Johnny’s big hands run down Mark’s back. “We’re both rational people. We’ll figure it out.” 

Mark wants to protest, because the way Johnny touches him and makes him come apart doesn’t feel rational at all. But then Johnny moves his hands to the front and Mark’s caution flies out the window for the night as Johnny makes him forget that anything exists except their bodies and the need to get closer and closer and closer. 

Just when Mark _thinks_ he _might_ have convinced himself that a relationship with Johnny _could_ work out, Donghyuck crashed into their lives with a ferocious energy. 

“My friends have been missing for a while now,” Donghyuck explains to them at a Council meeting, “and the Elders won’t do anything about it.” The Elders in question stare at Donghyuck with empty eyes, as still as statues, and don’t say anything to defend themselves.

Johnny, careful never to cause a rift with the Elders, tells Donghyuck that this is a witch-specific issue and therefore out of scope of the Council’s responsibility. Mark nods in agreement.

Donghyuck explodes in a fit of rage, almost singes Johnny’s eyebrows off, and spits poisonous words in their direction with such fervor that Mark ends up half-impressed and half-terrified for his life. No one had ever spoken to the Council members that way. Donghyuck then camps out at the Council building for an entire week, claiming he won’t leave until they help, and making himself a nuisance for everyone who tries to enter the building. His light brown hair and flowy clothes stay impeccable, so Mark secretly thinks Donghyuck is finding the time to go home and change without anyone noticing. 

One night Johnny and Mark agree to help Donghyuck without telling the Elders. They tell Donghyuck to meet them at a hidden restaurant in the red light district. Before the food even arrives Mark finds himself enraptured by the moles on Donghyuck’s face and equipped with the terrifying knowledge that he would do anything in the world to help Donghyuck find his friends. 

So the three of them embark on the mission. They ask every contact in the city they can come up with about the two missing witches. They scour every hidden corner and invisible building they can find. Donghyuck’s energy is never ending and behind his anger and desperation Mark finds someone who loves so incredibly well. 

He didn’t think witches could be like this. The Elders had never once shown a flicker of emotion on their faces, but Donghyuck is filled to the brim with them. Things start to look up when they get in contact with the fae, whose brand of magic is timeless, mysterious, and very expensive to contract. Johnny offers to empty his pockets, but Mark knows that the wolves don’t have much, so he sells a few vampire heirlooms to pay for the magic. 

Donghyuck tries on the draping gold earrings and the green-jewelled crown before Mark sells them. “These are beautiful,” he says.

“You look good in a crown,” Mark blurts out. 

Donghyuck smiles at him slowly. He lifts the crown and places it on Mark’s head, keeping it there with his hands. “So do you.” Mark is thankful that he can’t blush, because if he could he would be tomato-red. “How old are you anyway? Did you ever wear one of these in the Silla Kingdom?” 

“Shut up, I’m not that old,” Mark mumbles, ducking his head and snatching the crown out of Donghyuck’s hands. “I died seven years ago.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, drawing out the syllables.

“I was only twenty-one when I turned,” Mark whines back.

The price is worth it, and the magic the fae perform for them is as powerful as it is perplexing. Ten’s eyes glow bright green as he speaks, the leaves and flowers around him shaking. “Your friends are alive,” he starts off slowly. Light spills out of his mouth with the words. “They’re not here, they—” he’s frowning now. “They don’t want to be found.”

“What do you mean they don’t want to be found?” Donghyuck demands.

The world stills. Ten blinks, and his pupils return to their deep black color, a distinctive lack of whites to his eyes. “They don’t want to be found,” he repeats unhelpfully.

“Well tell them I’m looking for them,” Donghyuck says. 

“You got what you paid for. I won’t give you anything more,” Ten says. His hands play with the jewels of the crown.

“Hold on now,” Johnny says, “we paid for you to find them.” 

Ten melts back into the trees. He’s only half-formed when he speaks again. “You didn’t pay me to tell you where they are.” 

It’s a success and a failure all at once. “At least you know they’re okay,” Mark says into the silence Ten leaves behind. It’s the wrong thing to say. Donghyuck screws up his eyes and goes very still. Mark is confused for a moment about what exactly is going on, then, to his horror, he sees a few tears slip down Donghyuck’s cheeks.

The world tilts on its axis in that moment, falling and falling until the earth hangs upside down in its orbit, and Donghyuck is crying. Mark glances at Johnny for support, and then realizes that _he_ was the one who was upside down the entire time, that the world is right side up. Because the soft expression Johnny has on his face feels _right_ , and it’s only for Donghyuck. Mark suddenly feels like an intruder, like he’s watching a love story unfold that he’s not a part of. Just a side character, an extra, a pit stop. Johnny spent some time with him just to take up a few pages in the wonderful book of his life he’s filling up, and now he’s reached the climax, the ending, the happy ever after. The person he’s meant to live and die with. 

In the split second it takes Mark’s world to come crumbling down, Donghyuck throws himself in their arms. Johnny wraps one arm around Donghyuck, the other around Mark. They stand too close together. Mark buries his face in Donghyuck’s shoulders and feels Johnny rub circles against his back. He wonders when they’ll realize he’s taking up space that isn’t his. 

Time is running out for the first time since Mark was turned. 

“We’ll do whatever we can to find them. I promise, I’ll do anything,” Mark says.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear? They don’t want to be found.”

☾

Two gifts, two beating hearts, two goodbyes. Mark has decided he won't be left. He’ll leave with his head high, tell Johnny it’s okay, tell Donghyuck to go after what he wants. He’s happy to take the backseat, to have a smaller role in their story, to build his own without them. 

The first gift is a necklace with a silver moonstone hanging on black leather. It is cool to the touch, and when he holds it up to his ears he can hear the sound of crashing waves. Johnny takes the necklace with a serious expression, has Mark reach up to tie the leather behind his neck, and kisses him slowly. 

“Donghyuck is important to you and I— I understand. He’s important to me too. But I don’t want to be in the way.”

Johnny nods and kisses him again. “We’ll figure it out,” he says. That night is one Mark knows he’ll never forget as he and Johnny move achingly slow in the bed, memorizing each other’s bodies and taking their time to properly relearn pleasure. Mark throws his head back, Johnny moving above him and painted in moonlight, and he feels a few tears slip down his face as he thinks, _I’m ruined_.

It takes a few days to get to Donghyuck after that. They meet on the North side, Mark’s first excursion that far uptown. A little park between two buildings sits pretty and poised. Donghyuck watches him with rapt attention, clearly on edge and waiting for Mark to say something, but what? 

“The kingdom of Silla,” Mark says, finally. 

“What about it?” Donghyuck asks. 

“Taeyeon is the oldest vampire in the city. She’s— she’s really something. And she actually has a crown from the Silla kingdom. I told her about you, and she let me have it. I want to give it to you.” Mark pushes the crown into Donghyuck’s hands. Donghyuck lets out a soft breath, runs his fingers down the gold. 

“How did you convince her to give you this?” he asks, lifting the crown so that it’s jewels glitter with the golden glow of the streetlamps. 

Mark shrugs. “I just told her about you.” 

Taeyon had always been incredibly sweet, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly terrifying. He doesn’t even remember exactly what he said. He just rambled about how every day with Donghyuck is an adventure, about how he feels like he’s known Donghyuck his whole life, how badly he wishes he could see Donghyuck in the sunlight. Taeyon didn’t stop him, so he just went on and on until she had taken out the crown and placed it in his hands. 

“Tell him all of this,” she had said. 

And Mark desperately wants to. He could sing Donghyuck’s praise all night, but the memory of Johnny’s soft expression stops him. For a moment he wonders if Donghyuck can read minds— can witches do that?— because he looks at Mark like he’s as beautiful and timeless as the crown in his hands. 

Donghyuck surges forward to kiss him. His brain malfunctions at the feeling of Donghyuck’s soft lips under his, the warmth he exudes, and he moves his mouth automatically, body shifting closer. Then he gasps and pulls away.

“Wait! What about Johnny?” 

Donghyuck’s eyes stay on his lips. Mark feels naked under the gaze and licks his lips self consciously. “Johnny said you had talked to him already?”

“I did. Aren’t you two together now?” 

Now Donghyuck tears his eyes away and peers at Mark curiously. “Two?” 

Mark stares at him, uncomprehending. He gets the sudden feeling that his entire life he thought he was speaking the same language as the people around him, and has just now discovered that no one had any clue what he was saying the whole time. “I’m confused. I ended things with Johnny.” 

Donghyuck bursts into laughter. “I’m falling in love with an idiot,” he says, cackling. 

“Hey,” Mark says, but it’s half-hearted.

“Johnny said _you_ said you wanted to try. The three of us.” 

Mark gapes at Donghyuck. “He said what?” 

“And I agree with him. Witches love things that come in threes. It’s a powerful number.” 

“I—” Mark begins, then finishes his thought by leaning forward and kissing Donghyuck, who grins into the kiss. They stay like that, in this little park, in this magical side of the city, for a long time. Mark gets lost in the plushness of Donghyuck’s lips and the way he flushes a pretty red, the whines that come out of his mouth and the way he pushes against Mark’s pull. The grass underneath Mark’s back is warm and Donghyuck on top of him even warmer. Hands slip under clothes and between bodies and Mark doesn’t know what he did in a previous life to end up with this stunning witch above him, but he likes this after-life very much. 

☾

A new cast of characters appear into Mark’s life like they had simply always been there. Donghyuck claims Johnny’s apartment as his own, and the three of them spend nights wrapped up around each other in a pleasant daze. Johnny’s apartment brings him Jaehyun, who teases him relentlessly but in a way that no one else seems to catch. Yuta delights in bringing him small gifts after every full moon, like a cat bringing a dead mouse home after a hunt. Wendy has an incredible sense of smell and tells them she’ll let them know as soon as she catches Taeyong or Doyoung’s scent in city limits. The wolves are kind and promise to keep them a secret, and always have wide smiles for Mark even when the wolfsbane ravages their minds and bodies. 

Johnny and Donghyuck make it their mission to keep Mark in the bedroom for as much of the night as possible, and Mark is happy to oblige, even when Yuta whines that they don’t hang out enough. They stay awake later and later, sometimes Mark watches them eat, sometimes they let him feed, sometimes they just talk and sometimes they end up curled around each other, Donghyuck and Johnny fast asleep, skin gleaming despite the darkness. Mark lays awake those nights, pondering his place in this new world. 

Maybe he’s not a side character in someone else’s love story. But maybe this love story isn’t his either. Maybe he’s just one of the many characters whose names get lost in the mix of lives and loves and deaths people like to sift through. Just one person of many who lost his heart and found it again, who— like Johnny and Donghyuck— has something to lose now. 

“Your brain is too loud.”

Mark turns his head to find Donghyuck blinking blearily from across Johnny’s body. “Stop thinking and come here.” 

Johnny grunts and opens an eye at the noise, then rolls over Mark— almost crushing him— so that Mark is between them. He throws a long arm over Mark then buries himself into the pillows. Donghyuck snuggles up to Mark, pressing his face into Mark’s collarbones. 

“Good night,” Johnny says, voice raspy. Donghyuck just hums in response. Mark closes his eyes, and dreams of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, the gold crowns of silla are absolutely beautiful! the silla kingdom was a kingdom located in the central/southern part of korea from 57BC to 935AD :). u can read more about the crowns  
> [here](https://www.ancient.eu/article/957/the-gold-crowns-of-silla/)
> 
> johnmarkhyuckists follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_) or scream with me on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


	7. all's fair in love and war

“We thought he wouldn’t develop any magic. Most witches show signs of magical abilities before they turn ten— you know, like turning snow into flowers or something. Taeyong didn’t show any signs of magic until he was eighteen. When he did, it came out wrong. Well, not wrong, but too strong. He turned water into fire and talked to spiders. The Coven Elders,” distaste sticks to his words, “they were scared of him. So they decided to lock him up and strip him of his powers.” 

“They can do that?” Jaehyun asks, eyes wide. 

“They tried.” Doyoung smiles, and he can feel the ugliness against the curve of his lips. “There’s a prison cell hidden in the most haunted Coven building, leftover from the days before the Council was established. I broke Taeyong out before they could touch him.”

“So you think the Elders are keeping Yuta in the same place they kept Taeyong,” Wendy surmises. 

“That’s unacceptable,” Johnny says. 

“That’s breaking Council law,” Mark adds.

“ _Yuta_ broke Council law,” Doyoung reminds him sharply. 

“Yuta would never hurt anyone,” Jaehyun snaps. Doyoung narrows his eyes at him. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“I am.” 

He’s telling the truth. Doyoung can tell. But that doesn’t mean he’s right. _It’s unconditional_ , he had once said about his pack. “It doesn’t matter that Yuta wouldn't hurt someone, it matters that someone has been hurt. I’m the one who just stitched together a broken body. I had to hear him screaming. His eyes—” 

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun stops him, and glances at Johnny and Mark. The pair have gone very still. Doyoung winces at their drawn faces. He was never good at this— softening his words to hide the sharp edges underneath. Those sharp edges appear on Johnny and Mark’s faces now, distorting them into something animalistic. Love is not pretty.

“No matter what happened with Yuta, he shouldn’t be at the Elders’ mercy right now. You said you broke Taeyong out. Let’s do it again,” Jaehyun says, breaking the silence.

“No way,” Mark cuts in before Doyoung can respond. Before Doyoung even knows how to respond. “That will just escalate the situation.”

“We have no idea what the Elders will do to Yuta. We can’t just leave him there,” Jaehyun insists. 

“One misstep and we could have another war on our hands. Like the pre-Council days. Right?” Mark turns to Johnny.

Johnny’s expression is carefully blank. Doyoung watches his arm fall from where it had been wrapped around Mark’s shoulders. “The pack doesn’t leave a wolf behind.”

Wendy and Jaehyun nod emphatically at his statement.

“Johnny,” Mark says between clenched teeth, “this is bigger than the pack. Look, I know vampires who were alive back then. Do you know how much blood will be spilled if things go wrong? Breaking Yuta out will only make things worse. We have to find a way to maintain peace.” 

“You just don’t want the vampires to get caught in between us and the Coven,” Jaehyun accuses.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Mark twirls to face Jaehyun, voice raised an octave. Doyoung privately agrees with Jaehyun, but he stays silent as Johnny steps in front of Mark.

“You told me once you never want to choose between the vampires and me,” Johnny says quietly. “I said I don’t want you to choose.” 

“Then don’t put me in a position where I have to,” Mark says.

“Doyoung, you know how the Elders think. What do they want?” Jaehyun interrupts the forming bubble. Johnny turns away from Mark to look at Doyoung. His eyes are silver. 

“I think they want power,” Doyoung says. “I told you once, didn’t I?” He addresses Jaehyun. “Magic is about power.” 

“I remember.”

“But they don’t need a war to get it. Think about the position you’re in. The witches have something you want.”

“They’re going to ask for something in return,” Jaehyun says, catching on to Doyoung’s train of thought. “And because of Hyuck’s attack, if we don’t give them what they want, we look like the bad guys.” 

“Johnny,” Mark says in a soft voice. “Lets wait to see what the Elders want. If it’s something you can give them, we get Yuta back, Hyuck heals, and we can pretend this never happened.” 

“If it’s not, will you help us break Yuta out?” Johnny asks, just as quiet. 

Mark looks over at Doyoung, expanding their momentary bubble. “We really can’t see Hyuck right now?” 

Doyoung nods. The bubble shrinks— Mark looks at Johnny, and Johnny looks at Mark. 

“Let’s call a Council meeting,” Mark finally says. He never answers Johnny’s question.

☾

The strange thing is that when the world feels like it’s falling apart, it does so slowly. There’s a lot of time to sit and think about what’s happening, more so than there is time to watch it happen. It feels wrong, almost, to be sitting on the couch, sipping on tea. He watches Johnny and Mark prepare for the Council meeting, thinking about his burnt tongue and the faded green color of the couch. Jaehyun sits next to him, knee jumping. Doyoung watches Jaehyun’s bouncing leg in fascination. All that energy condensed in a singular point, the rest of Jaehyun’s body held carefully still, poised for release. 

The Elders say the Council meeting will happen at sundown. Mark leaves the apartment covered in thick clothes, under a black umbrella, to head home despite the sun. He says he needs to talk to the vampires. He doesn’t elaborate. Johnny watches him go from the door, and Doyoung watches Johnny in a voyeuristic moment of heartbreak. 

“I didn’t think it would come to this,” Johnny says, turning around. 

“No one told you to fall in love with the vampire prince,” Wendy says sullenly, staring at a map of the city. She trails her fingers over the small lines of the northern streets. Johnny sighs and heads into the kitchen. The sound of water pouring out of the sink filters through the room.

“You understand, don’t you?” Jaehyun looks at Doyoung intently. 

“Understand what?” Doyoung asks. Jaehyun’s knees have gone still. Jaehyun angles himself towards Doyoung so their legs press together. 

“Yuta. We would do everything for him. It’s not fair of Mark to ask us to do anything less.” 

“Of course I understand,” Doyoung says. He recognizes the strain in Jaehyun’s eyes, the tension in his body. Doyoung has felt the same thing. “We would do anything for the people we love. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

He always thought that leaving the city with Taeyong in broken chains had ultimately been an act of love. A testament to the strength of his bond with his best friend. It romanticized a violent experience, yes, but it was rooted in love, which is inherently _right_. Isn’t it? 

When he opens his eyes, Jaehyun is frowning at him. Doyoung opens his mouth— to say what, he’s not sure— but Johnny interrupts them, coming out of the kitchen with the ends of his hair wet. A few water droplets make their way down his neck. Doyoung notices a necklace tucked into his shirt.

“How is the wolfsbane coming along?” Johnny asks, pulling a chair from the table opposite of the couch. 

“Doyoung is doing amazing work,” Jaehyun says. Doyoung sends Jaehyun a small, surprised smile. It’s the first time he’s smiled all day. 

“You think you can recreate the potion without the side effects?” Johnny asks Doyoung.

Doyoung hesitates. “I’m trying. I never knew how badly the potion affected werewolves until now. A lot of changes need to be made, but it should be possible.” 

Johnny snorts. “I’ve been telling the Council for ages that something’s gotta give. Taking it is hell. Can you have it done by the next full moon?”

Something in Doyoung wants to say yes, by the next full moon it will be ready. He has the image of Jaehyun’s burnt fingers in mind, that drawn and tired face, the way he had tried to hide his breaking voice when describing the effects. Doyoung wants to be able to tell him _you never have to go through that again_.

But that would be a lie. Doyoung shrugs. “It would be a miracle to pull it off by then.”

Johnny hums. “I need to go talk to the fae. See if they’re on my side. Or at least pretend to be. I’ll see you both at the Council meeting.”

It’s an order. 

“Have you ever been to a Council meeting before?” Doyoung asks Jaehyun once Johnny and Wendy have left, the door slamming shut behind them.

“No.”

“Me neither.” 

☾

The Council, Doyoung remembers learning, was established after a long period of violence and bloodshed between the magical factions. The leaders of each group came together to maintain peace, to establish territories and boundaries. It was created ten years before Doyoung was born. To him, those wars had only ever been an inherited memory, not one of his own. Though now he thinks violence had always been there, it had just taken on a different form. 

To the vampires and the fae however, where death has been taken from them, the memories of those days are only a stone’s throw away in their minds. To the Elders, and the other older witches, their wounds are still visible in the lines of their face and the distrust of their eyes. 

Doyoung walks into the Council meeting with Jaehyun. He’s grateful that Jaehyun doesn’t go stand behind Johnny, but pulls Doyoung into a corner of the room where they can see Johnny engaged in deep conversation with a bored and timeless fae, who he knows peripherally is named Ten. Mark— small, dead, and dressed for a funeral— keeps on shooting Johnny furtive glances. 

The Coven Elders stand by the window. They keep still and look uncannily alike considering their lack of family relation. They both have silver hair cut by their shoulders, dark eyes, and always move synchronously. 

He had expected a huge hall filled with every magical being in the city. He had expected to see Yuta on display in chains with blood on his hands, to see Donghyuck broken and burning. He expected something of a show. But it feels clandestine— the quiet air, the dark sky, the flickering candles. 

“I have a feeling we’re not supposed to be here,” Jaehyun whispers. The Elders’ eyes stray to their corner. Doyoung feels their unmoving gaze burn his skin.

“I think we’re here for a very specific reason we’re not aware of yet,” Doyoung responds. He resists the urge to step behind Jaehyun to break the direct line of sight between himself and the Elders. Instead he just presses himself into Jaehyun’s side, brushing their shoulders and fingers together. 

“Let’s begin,” Hansung says, eyes still on Doyoung. Everyone turns to sit at the circular table in the middle of the room. Only Doyoung and Jaehyun remain standing. 

“What I want to know,” Ten begins, “is why I was called away from my _very_ beautiful and _very_ deadly garden to hear about a werewolf attack of all things.” 

“The wolves broke the peace we tried so hard to establish. One has gone berserk and attacked our very own witch,” Sooyeon says. She sounds almost smug.

“We can only guess what will follow now that it seems you are incapable of controlling yourselves under the full moon,” Hansung finishes smoothly, speaking to Johnny.

“You have our wolf in your custody, don’t you?” Johnny asks. 

“Of course. How can we know it’s safe for him to roam free?” 

Johnny points out the window, where a waning moon shines through the window. “It’s quite simple.” 

Sooyeon smiles at Johnny, baring her teeth. “It really isn’t. He could do it again.” 

“Do I have to be worried about crazy werewolves attacking my fae every month?” Ten cuts in, exasperated.

“We were deluded into thinking living in harmony with the werewolves would be safe. This attack clearly proves us wrong,” Sooyeon says.

“That’s not exactly true,” Mark jumps in, speaking up for the first time. “I want the vampires to be safe too. But we don’t even know what instigated the attack.” 

Johnny’s lips quirk upwards. “Now that’s a good point. If we want to talk about safety, we have to look at the real violence in question. I have brought up the pain that comes with taking wolfsbane at _every_ Council meeting, and every time the Coven Elders have chosen to ignore the plea for help. You have let us poison ourselves for years. Eventually, one of us couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You’re saying the werewolf didn’t take his wolfsbane?” Ten asks sharply. 

Johnny shrugs. “It’s the only possible explanation.”

Sooyeon hasn’t lost her snarling smile. “Well, this just proves that we can’t trust the werewolves to stay docile. I propose, for the safety of us all, that the wolves remove themselves from the city entirely.” 

Silence. Doyoung feels Jaehyun tense beside him and grabs onto his hand. Something shutters behind Johnny’s expression. Mark jolts like someone had physically harmed him.

“You can’t—” Mark starts off loudly, then stops himself and gathers his thoughts. “They cannot be _removed_ from the city. Their bodies are not something that can be shipped away. That land is not something to be taken.” 

“This isn’t about something as banal as territory. This is about a life that was almost lost. Don’t you have a responsibility to your vampire to keep them safe? Death is such a terrible thing for a vampire, something so easily avoidable,” Hansung simpers.

“Enough,” Johnny says before Mark can answer. “This is our home. That’s non-negotiable. I propose a solution to get to the heart of the problem— the wolfsbane potion.” Doyoung’s heart drops. He expected a show, and thought he hadn’t found one. But he was wrong— this is a stage and he doesn’t know his lines. “I’m sure the Elders know of Doyoung’s prowess in potions. He believes there is a way to recreate the potion in a way that doesn’t harm the wolves. This completely erases any incentive to skip out on the potion, and an attack like last night will never happen again.” 

“You expect us to trust a traitor?” Sooyeon spits out.

“I really don’t want to deal with the fallout of whoever will take the land to the south if the wolves leave,” Ten pipes up. “I’m willing to trust the witch on two conditions.”

“And those are?” Johnny asks.

“One— the potion must be ready by the next full moon. Can you do that?” Ten asks Doyoung.

Deja vu to only hours ago on a faded green couch. Two words. Yes or no. Doyoung can imagine the answer like he’s reading off a script. He sees the curling of a y. Witches were always in the business of miracles anyway. “Yes.”

Ten nods. “Good. Secondly, Sooyeon is right. We have no idea where his loyalties lie. He could fabricate a potion to throw us off.”

“Absolutely correct,” Hansung agrees.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Ten snaps. “I’ll trust the witch if I can curse him.”

Doyoung’s brain takes a few seconds to catch up to the riptide he’s suddenly found himself caught in. He has a vague feeling of drowning but can’t quite tell if it's all in his head. Life had taken on a dream-state for a while now, but he’s not sure when it started. Maybe he’s just now waking up.

“Absolutely not,” Jaehyun says at his side while he reels.

Hansung and Sooyeon look gleeful, which is automatically terrifying. “We agree to your conditions. Only if, when the traitor fails to come up with a suitable potion a month from now, the wolves agree to leave the city.” 

“We will never _agree_ to being forced out of the city.” Anger finally making its way into Johnny’s voice. “I’ll agree to the conditions if we get Yuta in our own custody once the potion is made.”

“Doyoung is the one potentially being cursed. He’s the one who agrees to the conditions or not,” Jaehyun breaks in, words sharp and crackling.

Then all eyes are on him. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees that his hands are shaking. He curls them into fists and shoves them into his pockets. 

“You don’t give me much of a choice,” he finally says. 

“I know you think you have to do this,” Jaehyun says, fast and quiet. “But you can say no. You don’t always have to do the right thing.” 

The right thing? It doesn’t feel like Doyoung has ever really done the right thing. It’s more like the world he’s a part of is constantly doing the wrong thing. He’s just desperately trying to make up for it, adding weight to one side of a moral scale that’s already broken. He’ll never be a good person. Not in this world.

“I’ll do it.” 

Ten smiles, a disarming thing that glints under candlelight. (Every smile tonight is ugly.) The fae cannot lie. It’s a curse that they can pass on. But they’ve made friends with their own curse, know how to use the leverage that comes from people’s blind trust in truth. Doyoung can learn to do the same. 

“It’ll be okay,” Doyoung says as Jaehyun slides a hand into his own. It’s surprising how grounding it feels. “When I complete the potion, the Coven Elders must agree to release Yuta from custody.”

Both Ten and Mark agree. The Coven Elders’ faces flicker with anger. Their shadowy eyes narrow. They are outnumbered now. 

Johnny leans back in his seat, content. Doyoung can’t help but feel a burst of anger towards him. _I’m not a pawn in your political game_ , he wants to say. _You won, are you happy now?_ But he keeps silent, because Johnny may be playing a game, but the stakes are lives and lost homes. 

“Let’s do this right away,” Ten says, rubbing his hands together with glee. His eyes start to glow green and the candles go dark. Doyoung blinks rapidly to adjust to the sudden darkness. He squeezes Jaehyun’s hand. Ten begins to speak, light spilling out of his mouth.

_Silence now thy lying tongue_

_Only truth and honesty from_

_Thy parted lips doth run—_

_Lest Death in your house come_

Doyoung feels a burning at the back of his throat. He coughs and coughs, tears streaming down his face, as lies are burnt off his tongue. Jaehyun murmurs words of comfort, a warm arm wrapped around his curved back while fae magic, so different from his own, shudders through his body. He presses his face into Jaehyun’s neck, breathing him in to distract himself from the smell of burning flesh. Eventually his body goes still, and he’s able to swallow down the pain. He takes one more breath and breaks away from Jaehyun, rubbing at his cheeks. 

Ten looks at him impassively. “You’re like me now,” he says. 

“Almost. I can still die,” Doyoung responds, surprised that his voice comes out strong. It’s true, he thinks, it must be. That’s all he can say now. The truth.

“Technically so can I,” Ten confesses. “It’s just time that can’t kill me.” 

Doyoung looks at the others. The candles are on again, so he tries to read their half-lit faces. The Elders look carefully re-composed, Mark stares at him with wide eyes. Johnny isn’t looking at him— he’s looking at Jaehyun, who still has an arm wrapped around Doyoung’s shoulder— and looks unhappy.

“All right. Let’s see what you’ll have for us by the next full moon,” Hansung says, a sneer hidden in his words.

“A traitor who cannot tell lies. How ironic,” Sooyeon murmurs. With that, they trickle away into the darkness. 

Ten scoffs at their dissipating shadows. “I hate them so much. Can’t wait for them to die. You better have good news for me next time we meet,” he says to Doyoung. “Have fun with the truth.”

When he leaves, the candles die yet again. Doyoung is left to stare at the others in darkness. 

Johnny steps into his line of sight. “Thank you,” he says. The moon shines pale against his face. He looks tired. “We owe you a great debt.” Doyoung turns away from him, fitting himself more securely into Jaehyun’s side. He swallows thickly and wonders how a body could feel so unfamiliar and familiar at once. His own and Jaehyun’s. His hand wraps around his own throat, a phantom pain.

“Let’s just go home,” Jaehyun says. They trickle out of the room, mundane in the way their knees creak while going down the stairs. The streets are empty and painted deep blue. Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Mark gravitates towards Johnny like a moth to a flame, eyes wide. Johnny sighs and wraps Mark up in an embrace. They sag against each other and Johnny squeezes his eyes shut. Doyoung thinks about Donghyuck, on this side of the city, probably still awake. Cursed in his own way— charm speaker and truth teller. 

“I’m going to spend the night with Hyuck. Make sure he’s okay,” he says. The others stop in their tracks. 

“As soon as he can, tell him he’s welcome to stay with me,” Johnny says. “Call us if he gets any worse.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Jaehyun says.

“You won’t be able to enter,” Doyoung protests. Jaehyun shrugs and reaches out a hand, waiting. Doyoung takes it and leads him up the street, farther north. He feels Johnny and Mark watch them leave. They’ll see Donghyuck soon, Doyoung is sure. There’s not much Donghyuck doesn’t get when he wants it. 

Jaehyun is quiet by his side. It feels nice to know that he isn’t waiting for the silence to be filled. Doyoung doesn’t speak, afraid now that his words are cursed. They just walk until they reach a familiar building. They had been here only hours ago, on this doorstep, Doyoung telling Jaehyun “I wish you could come with me.” It feels so long ago. Doyoung runs a hand through his hair. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks.

“Whenever you want,” Jaehyun replies.

“I wish you could come with me,” he says again. 

Jaehyun’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “I know. I do too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the truth spell is partially inspired by [this](https://www.wishbonix.com/spell-to-tell-the-truth/) ! thank u julia for beta-ing this chapter <333 
> 
> any guesses for whose pov the next interlude will be from? any requests for future povs? 
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


	8. interlude: seven

** Melted Strawberry Ice Cream On The Stoop **

Jaehyun’s hands are sticky, but he doesn’t mind. The stone step underneath him is sun-warmed and his shoes feel suffocating, but the ice cream that drips down his chin is worth it all. He licks a line of pink cream that slips over the cone before it reaches his fingers. It’s cool and sweet on his tongue. He hums contentedly. His mother is due to return any minute now, so he must eat quickly. He takes an experimental bite and winces. Maybe not. 

“Did you just _bite_ your ice cream?” a small, affronted voice asks. Jaehyun whips his eyes up and finds a skinny, black haired boy staring at him from the street. 

“No,” Jaehyun says defensively. 

“I just saw you do it,” the boy says.

“Whatever,” Jaehyun sulks, and takes another bite out of spite. 

The boy hedges forward slowly. Something in his face hardens with bravery and he hops onto the first step. Jaehyun stares down at him, very content on the fifth step, right in front of the door. 

“Do you live here?” the boy asks. 

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, “me and my mom and my dad. This is our house.” 

“I think your house is haunted.”

Jaehyun stares at the boy, unsure how to respond to such a statement. The boy says it confidently, dismissively. A though the thought had just passed into his mind then left his mouth, now hanging in the air between them and dissipating slowly. 

“I live that way,” the boy continues casually, pointing behind his back. “I can walk here super fast. If I run I can probably get here in like thirty seconds. Probably even ten.” 

Jaehyun tilts his head, considering. “You’re pretty fast,” he says. “But why have I never seen you before?” 

The boy pouts. “My mom says I’m not allowed to play with people like you.” 

“Who are people like me?” Jaehyun asks, more confused than offended. The boy shrugs. 

“I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t like people who eat ice cream?” 

Jaehyun looks down at his ice cream, which has lost all its shape and looks precariously close to falling off the cone. “Do you want to try?” 

The boy inches up to the next step. His eyes are huge. “I don’t know.” 

Jaehyun frowns. “You sure don’t know much.” 

Just then, Jaehyun’s mother walks up to the house. “Jaehyun,” she exclaims, rushing up the steps. “You’re ruining your clothes. And look at that hair— how does it get so messy? Let’s go inside and wash up. Imagine what the neighbors would say if they saw you like this.” Jaehyun is hauled to his feet. His mother spares the black-haired boy a fleeting glance. “Go home,” she says sternly, and the boy scampers away like a frightened deer. Jaehyun stares after him as his mother pulls him inside. 

“Wait,” he protests as his mother takes away his ice cream and throws it in the garbage can. “I wanted to give him some.” 

“You better not have stained your shirt,” his mother says, turning him around and inspecting every piece of dirt and stain his seven year old body managed to accumulate in a day. “My goodness, what will I do with you? Let’s get you washed and changed.” 

** The History Of Pain Starts Early  **

Sooyeon stares at her older brother’s body. She had woken up earlier than usual and slipped out of the house into the small park next door. The others tell her it’s not safe to go out alone, but it must be safe to go out while everyone is asleep. It’s far past the world’s bedtime. 

She shivers in her nightgown and sinks to the ground. The grass is wet, though it hadn’t rained the night before. Her brother must be cold, laying so still on the ground like this. She wraps her arms around herself and stares. 

The fall of soft footsteps makes her look up. She finds Hansung staring down at her, dressed in thick pajamas and barefoot. 

“I saw you through my bedroom window,” he says. 

Sooyeon and Hansung look alike. Sooyeon knows this because their families like to joke about it; how odd— two children born the same year of different family trees, who look like twins but couldn’t possibly be. By extension, this means that Hansung looks vaguely like Sooyeon’s brother. 

They don’t look anything alike right now though. Hansung’s face is flushed pink with cold, staining the tip of his nose and his ears. Her brother’s face is red— she can barely make out his features under the blood. Hansung has all his limbs where they should be, extending at the correct angles and reaching the correct length. Sooyeon’s brother does not have any of that. 

“Who did it?” Hansung asks. 

Sooyeon doesn’t know. She imagines her parents waking up, finding them in the nearby park, half-frozen and blue. Her parents would probably be able to tell vampire bites from werewolf claw marks, or deadly fae magic. But all Sooyeon can see is blood.

“Whoever did it, I’ll kill them,” Sooyeon says calmly. 

“Okay,” Hansung says. 

_War_ isn’t a word she understands quite yet. Neither is _death_. But the cooling blood that seeps into the ground and stains her nightgown, a little warmer than the air around them, is something she understands. There’s a word for it: pain. 

**Nighttime Festivals With Gold Monsters**

Once a year, La Mata has a festival to welcome the heat of summer, where the already too-warm air becomes unbearable. It’s the one day a year Irene can stay up late on a Saturday, and sleep in on the following Sunday. Every year, it takes her breath away. Lights twinkle on the streetlights like the stars above, and she gets to walk through town watching the older kids play games with little rings and toy swords. She gets to spend her pocket money on melted cheese, bitter chocolate, and stares at the beautiful art hung on the sidewalk.

She’s doing just that— sugar on her tongue— looking at a drawing of what she knows to be the ocean. Though she only knows this in a distant way, from a book and from stories passed along whispering children. She’s never been to the ocean. The water is supposed to be salty. She wonders if you can smell the salt from the beach. The artist gives her a flower, which she tucks behind her ears. 

Just then, she hears the sounds of drums and singing voices. Her favorite part of the night is starting. She races to the town square, squeezing her way through bodies to the front of the crowd, where the other children sit. She settles in between two of her neighbors, shushing them as the voices fade out and the drums deepen to a growl. 

Out comes a woman dressed in gold. Her clothes fall over her body like leaves of a weeping willow. She begins to move, arms extending, body spinning, sending out leaves of shimmering cloth all around her. The most striking part of all, though, is the mask she wears. It’s horrendous: bloodshot eyes and distorted features, red tears sliding down cheeks like blood. 

The dancing woman moves through the square. Her limbs are graceful— she falls to her knees, back arching towards the floor, then plants her feet on the ground and lifts herself up. She begins to spin, arms coming up in a circle. Her mask flashes in and out of focus. 

“Who is it?” someone whispers next to Irene. 

Every year, someone dressed in gold and a mask of horror dances through the square like this. It’s a tradition from long before the town looked like it does now. Before the house Irene lives in was built, before the church spires touched the sky. The dancer honors the beauty and power of the sun. It asks for the gift of light. It also asks for the gift of mercy. 

Irene ignores the whispers around her— the name Kwon only distantly registers in her ears— because she can’t take her attention off the dancer. She immediately straightes when the dancer heads in the children’s direction, feet jumping like the drumbeat. The woman leans down, then steals the flower from behind Irene’s ear. 

The dancer flits away, continuing her movements through the crowd. Irene decides to let the flower go— it was a gift, after all. It is meant to be given. She watches the woman with bated breath, eyes glued to the curve of her hand, the angle of her fingers. Then the woman circles back, holding the flower out for Irene. 

She takes it. The flower is in perfect condition, now covered in gold glitter that had painted the dancer’s body. It looks even more beautiful now. 

The tortured eyes seem to curve for half a second, the shadow of a wink. Then the woman flies away, dancing.

**Two Prisoners Meet In The Shameful Day**

There is a cold city whose veins are made up of winding concrete streets. The blood that flows through the city is thick with powerful magic. Hearts and homes spill out onto the sidewalks, as the children of the moon and the sun circle around each other with fear. 

Deep underground is a prison cell, surrounded by steel and an ancient kind of magic. A window high on the wall lets in painful sunlight, shamefully illuminating the two silent prisoners. 

One is a boy with platinum white hair, who sits on the ground with his head in his hands. Snow falls on top of him, and when it hits his body it fizzles and melts into water. He is drenched in this snow-water that burns both cold and hot. 

The other is a ghost— small, long dead, and very shy. She hides in a corner, peering at the boy between her fingers. 

“What did you do?” the ghost asks, her voice high and thin. 

The boy looks up. “My magic is wrong. I’m dangerous.” 

The ghost inches closer. “I was dangerous once too.” 

It should be said that neither prisoner is particularly dangerous. They’re young, love hungry, and desperate. It’s that combination that becomes dangerous. 

“What’s your name?” the ghost asks. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy pauses, waiting for her to respond with her own name. She doesn’t. She has many names— that is to say, she collects them. Every person who has come through here— dead or alive— gives her their name. She remembers them all. But she doesn’t remember her own. She died a very long time ago. 

“I’ve been very lonely,” she says. No one has been down here for quite some time. She used to have so many names to feast on. Now the name— Taeyong— feels something like a lifeline. She repeats it to herself, tongue pressing against the roof of her mouth, then falling down behind her teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. The ghost smiles at him. Not many people have a face like his. It is rather kind, behind all those sharp lines. 

“I hope you die here,” she says. She decides she would rather like someone to haunt the cell with. 

Taeyong blinks owlishly at her. He looks scared. How could anyone think he’s dangerous? She feels his magic, of course. It’s heavy in the snow that falls from the metal sky. The air is thick with it. She doesn’t mind it though. The body it is trapped in seems harmless enough. 

But something is wrong. She frowns, and looks towards the bars. Someone is trying to break the magic of the cell. She decides not to tell Taeyong, and keeps still as the foreign magic presses against the bars. It struggles for some time, then something snaps, and the magic of the cell breaks open. 

Taeyong jumps to his feet, grabs onto the bars and presses his face against them. “Doyoung!” 

Another name for the collection. The ghost watches in fascination as another boy pours something onto the bars, which melts the metal. Taeyong is hauled out of the cell and the boys rush out of the room. She catches one last sight of Taeyong, head turned in part-apology, part-goodbye. Then he disappears. 

The ghost leans against the cell, disappointed. It would be nice not to be alone.

☾

Another boy! Another name. This one: Yuta. 

But this one is not like Taeyong. He howls in the cell, hands slamming against the bars. His hands and face are covered in blood. He breaks down into violent sobs, shuddering. 

“Please be alive,” Yuta cries. The ghost has proudly put together the various clues of Yuta’s half-broken sentences to figure out his crime. He has attacked someone under the full moon. A friend. A friend who may be dead. The ghost itches to know the name of this maybe-dead friend.

“Who did you kill?” she asks. “Possibly kill,” she amends, when this question sends Yuta into another fit of sobs. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Yuta says. “I thought I could control it.” 

The truth of the matter is that the ghost isn’t particularly afraid of Yuta. Even if she were alive, she doesn’t think Yuta would hurt her. He’s just quite loud. She hasn’t heard this much noise in decades. She covers her ears. 

Yuta notices the movement and immediately goes silent. He sighs and comes to sit next to her, back against the wall. His breath comes out slower now— careful and controlled. She lowers her hands slowly. 

“How long have you been here?” Yuta asks quietly. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “A long time.”

“How old are you?” 

“How old was I before I died? I’m not sure either.” Her shoulders sag. She’s okay with not knowing her name. It would be nice to have an age though. 

“You look about seven,” Yuta offers in consolation.

The ghost perks up. Seven is a good number. Quite powerful. Very regal. She could be seven. Yuta gives her a smile. 

“I hope you die here,” she says warmly. 

This elicits a laugh out of Yuta. “Thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” she beams. Yuta is a wonderful name. 

** At Sixteen The Call Of The Forest Is Life Changing **

Jaehyun is sixteen, and still a child. He’ll do everything in his power to convince you otherwise— could a child do _this_? What about _this_? He’ll drink until he can’t talk and kiss boys and girls under daylight, just to say _I am not ashamed_. Though who he’s saying it to is unclear. He collects mistakes and broken hearts like they add years to his life. 

His parents grow fed up with his behavior. He doesn’t care— there was a time he tried to live up to the image of the perfect son they had for him, and even then he came up short. So why even try? He’ll disappoint them either way. 

He rides high in this city, feels like a king under street lamps, so his parents decide to take it all away from him. They pack up his bags, place him in the backseat of the car, and drive out of the city while he sits sullen and crying, staring out the window as the buildings grow smaller and smaller. 

They reach the cottage at night. He will admit this: it does feel rather holy to stand in the driveway, peering into the deep blackness between the trees that surround the house. The darkness calls to him— a promise of mystery, of discovery. 

His parents take him inside, have him unpack his things. They eat dinner in silence. They must think he’s giving them the cold shoulder, but he doesn’t even think of his half-friends and sometimes-lovers back in the city. His thoughts all flow in one direction: what will the bark of the trees feel like under his fingers? Will the grass be soft under his feet? Can moonlight filter through the heavy veil of leaves above? He wants to find out. 

So he pretends to go to bed early and slips out his window. He walks into the trees and is startled by how much he can hear _._ Hooting owls, scuttling rodents, buzzing insects. The bark and grass are rough against his skin. Moonlight paints the world silver. 

He starts to run, letting his delighted scream settle in between the layers of noise in the forest. He’s a part of the wildlife now— wild in a true sense, in a way he hasn’t been in years. He runs and runs away from civility until his chest heaves and his legs burn, then he slows and throws himself onto the ground. He closes his eyes to better feel the world around him. 

But something is wrong. The world is quiet now— not a single animal can be heard. Did they all leave? Are they here, silent now, watching? But watching what? He sits up. The darkness between the trees looks menacing. He thinks he sees a pair of eyes, but blinks and then they’re gone. 

He curls his knees into his chest, wraps his arms around them. He begins to rock back and forth, begging his breath to slow. But it doesn’t and he can’t think past the sound of his desperate inhales, his hurried exhales. He holds his breath, just for a moment reprise. 

That’s when something comes at him, huge and dark and snarling. He feels a sharp pain at his shoulder as teeth dig into his skin and rip open his flesh. His body shuts down quickly, a relief, because the pain has him sobbing and writhing uncontrollably. 

He remembers feeling the hard earth underneath his head. He remembers looking up at the sky. So many stars— you can’t see stars like this in the city. And the moon. It is so bright.

When the pack meets Jaehyun, at sixteen, he is no longer a child, but something broken and alone. Lost family, lost home, lost humanity. Children are not meant to know loss like this, so Jaehyun is not a child. 

“You’re one of us now. We'll take care of you,” Johnny tells him, late at night after Jaehyun wakes up from a dream, drenched in sweat and thinking of the moon. 

And Jaehyun thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll relearn how to be wild again. In this body or in the other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some pieces that vaguely inspired this interlude: 
> 
> taylor swift, seven:  
> "Please picture me in the weeds  
> Before I learned civility  
> I used to scream ferociously  
> Any time I wanted"
> 
> and also  
> oscar wilde, the ballad of reading gaol:  
> "Like two doomed ships that pass in storm  
> We had crossed each other's way:  
> But we made no sign, we said no word,  
> We had no word to say;  
> For we did not meet in the holy night,  
> But in the shameful day.
> 
> A prison wall was round us both  
> Two outcast men were we:  
> The world had thrust us from its heart  
> ..."
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_), [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


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